


A lack of Invitations

by AphroditeB00w



Series: Shadow People [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Blood, Bodyguard, Character Death, Consensual Smut, Dangerous men, Hand to Hand fighting, Japanese Mob, Knives, M/M, Mafia AU, Power Play, Romance, Slow Burn, Trust Issues, Violence, Voilence, Yuri!!! on Ice Week 2017, but the AU just set fire to my brain, definitely gonna be NSFW later, i don't know enough about this fandom to do it justice, mob boss, russian mob, sexy sweaty fighty men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-19 04:28:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 24
Words: 74,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9418778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AphroditeB00w/pseuds/AphroditeB00w
Summary: Viktor is ex-Russian mob knife for hire, with a terrifying reputation. Yuuri is a Japanese mob boss. They encounter each other at a party and for some reason, Yuuri is intrigued enough to hire Viktor on.Based on the fanart of A Yuuri on Ice mafia AU that se fire to my brain and now I just need to write this.It's my own, and I am going to do my best to include other characters from the series, but really, this is about Viktor and Yuuri.The temperaments may change somewhat.It will have violent scenes. And hot smut scenes too.





	1. First impressions

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the fanart of A Yuuri on Ice mafia AU that se fire to my brain and now I just need to write this.  
> It's my own, and I am going to do my best to include other characters from the series, but really, this is about Viktor and Yuuri.  
> The temperaments may change somewhat.  
> It will have violent scenes. And hot smut scenes too.
> 
> I'm writing this really fast, so I apologise for any typos I am missing.

Viktor jerked his shoulders forward in an attempt to free himself, and got a solid punch to the jaw for his trouble.  
He spat out the blood and glared at his captors. 

“I honestly thought you would be a bit more grateful.” He managed to say through a red-stained mouth, grinning humourlessly at the small dark-haired man crouching a short distance away.

Katsuki Yuuri was a small man, and the smoothness of his face betrayed his youth. But his eyes were flat, dispassionate and barely curious as he gazed at Viktor. 

“Your reasons have yet to be established.” Yuuri drawled in reply, looking through Viktor. His arms were being twisted painfully behind his back, forcing him to his knees, but he refused to show it. He lifted his eyebrows in mock surprise.

“You mean, other than saving your life?” Viktor replied, referring to the fact that moments before, he had gotten between Yuuri and a would-be assassin and made quick work of his neck.

Yuuri’s expression didn’t change. His fingers toyed lazily with a coin, as it had been all night. The large silver disk flashed as it danced from finger to finger, but Viktor’s eyes didn’t waver. The six or so muscle men in expensive, identical suits also didn’t move an inch, a pack of dogs brought to heel, waiting for the word of their master.

“Did you? Save my life?” Yuuri inquired lazily.

Viktor's eyes did dance away now, to where a body lay crumpled inelegantly to the side, resting in an already congealing pool of blood. He had slid slightly away, making a skid mark over the white marble, and the colors looked oddly complimentary.

“Well, I suppose you would have to judge that. Let’s go back in time, and I’ll simply do nothing, and we can see if you die then.”

There was an active bunching of muscles and Viktor’s arms screamed as they were inched higher, but a minuscule flick of fingers from Yuuri and the tension settled back into a hum.

“Hmm. You are very confident.”

“I have a reputation to protect.” Viktor managed to say sarcastically.

Yuuri blinked slowly. “I am well aware of who you are. Viktor Nikiforov, Russian bodyguard for hire, ties with the Russian organized crime, recently fallen into disrepute over a murky association with the police.” Yuuri spoke softly. “Your name is enough to make some men pause.”

They both continued to stare at one another, the unsaid words being that Yuuri was _not_ one of those men.

After another ageless moment, in which Viktor controlled his breathing ever so carefully so that he wouldn’t start panting from the pain, Yuuri went on.

“Why are you at my party at all Viktor Silver?” Yuuri asked slowly, glancing at his ever dancing coin and using Viktor's street name. “I am almost certain you were not invited.”

“Neither was your assassin.” Viktor pointed out.

“Actually, he was.” Yuuri sighed like it was an inconvenience of note to be attacked by guests.

“It’s such a shame when people don’t have good manners.” Viktor quipped, somehow managing levity through gritted teeth.

“Good manners like coming to a party you weren’t invited to?” Yuuri said, eyes glancing at his again, and this time Viktor felt a kind of singeing at the contact.

“I was invited,” Viktor said. “Just not by you.”

Yuuri said nothing, didn’t bother asking who had allowed Viktor entrance or the ultimate reason he had been hired.

“I have no ill intentions towards you, Yuuri Katsuki. My business is not with you.”

“From what I hear, your knives have business with anyone who pays for them.” Yuuri returned. With a barely audible sigh, he got up from his crouch in a fluid movement and Viktor strained his neck to follow him.

“I believe you Viktor. I know you no longer have ties to Yaakov, those bridges have long been burned. And I know you work hardly at all these days. And also, I care very little what your actual business here tonight.”

Yuuri waved a languid hand and the pressure vanished from Viktor’s shoulders, he slumped forward, only just catching himself. His arms were burning, and he darted a glare at the man who had caught him. The blankness of the returning look was like a predatory snake. Viktor, instantly taking a different tact, smiled brightly and blew him a kiss instead.

 _That_ got a reaction. Raised eyebrows, a slight fluster. It was satisfying enough for Viktor.

When Viktor turned back Yuuri was watching him again, the same deadpan expression ever in place.

“However, I do not like owing a life debt to anyone. Especially not Viktor Silver Nikiforov.”

Viktor blinked, and paused in massaging his aching shoulders. “You owe me nothing.”

Yuuri sighed and adjusted the cuffs of his form-fitting black suit. “If only that were the case. So Viktor, what is it you want?”

Viktor didn’t answer. He could think of a thousand things. He wanted the same things anyone wanted; food, warmth, shelter…the things that made a mundane living. And there were other things, deeper things, things that were so far rooted in his past they were barely recognizable…

Yuuri was clearly tired of waiting. “I am a very patient man, Viktor. However, I am not indulgent.” Yuuri spoke again, this time, the tone was sharper, like the glint of a knife edge.

Viktor blinked.

“Well, if you ever find a gap in your wall of henchmen, my calendar is fairly empty at present,” Viktor said, hardly believing he dared to say the words.

Others may not have noticed it, but Viktor was watching for it; the slight, almost non-existent flicker of eyelids over Yuuri Katsuki’s dark eyes. His henchmen stirred, particularly the one closest to him, the one with the fevered face and bright eyes that had watched Viktor all the time like a dog.

“You want a job,” Yuuri said flatly.

Viktor shrugged. “I’m bored. There is nothing left for me in Russia.”

Yuuri gazed at him. “I do not hire part-time. The men who work for me are in this for life. We are…a family business.” Yuuri went on. “And also, you stand out. Your hair, your eyes…you are not one of us.”

Viktor swallowed and finally stood up. He was taller than Yuuri by a head, but the smaller man’s aura towered over them all.

“Don’t you make the rules?” Viktor said.

There was a careful stillness after these words, dust particles themselves paused. The words were either an innocent question, or an ignorant challenge.  
Yuuri turned away. Leaving both Viktor and the body.

“Goodbye, Viktor Nikiforov.” He said over his shoulder, his entourage close behind him.

Viktor huffed.


	2. Shadow People

It was another three months before Katsuki Yuuri made contact, and even then, the way in which he did was at once featherlite and with a hammers force.

Viktor was sitting in his apartment, watching videos on his phone and Makkanin drooling sleepily in his lap when his keen ears picked up the soft rustle of paper. The movement was slight but Viktor caught it; an envelope slipped underneath his door. Nothing else.

He stared at it for some time before moving. Even Makkanin, his woolly hound hadn’t stirred. Not that Makkanin was there for security. Viktor knew he was the only guard dog in the apartment, and he suspected Makkanin took full advantage of the fact by never giving a shit about safety.

Eventually, he slid out from under the dogs head, lithe and careful, and detoured through the kitchen to retrieve a pair of long tongs from over the stove. Then he stopped a distance away from the white envelope, and picked it up with the silicone ends clamping lightly on the corner. He didn’t want to set off any triggers that may be within the paper.

Others might call him paranoid. He just called it prudent.

His eyes widened slightly when he saw the image on the paper. The emblem of a snake about to devour a crescent moon.

Katsuki clan symbol.

The corner of Viktor’s mouth twitched, and he stared at the envelope for some time before deciding that since Yuuri still owed him a life debt, he probably didn’t want to kill him, and moving back to the couch to open the envelope.

Inside were two things. One, a note on thick heavy paper and the other a plane ticket. To japan.

Viktor’s long fingers opened the folded note, and read the simple one written in what appeared to be fountain pen.

 **Silver,**  
**Consider this an invitation**.

Viktor glanced at the ticket again. Hasetsu, japan. The flight was due in four hours. A small pleased part of his mind noted that the ticket included travel expenses for one animal.

Since Viktor lived simply, it took him only fifteen minutes to pack what he needed; a change of clothes, toiletries, money, passports. And Makkanin.  
“Come on, woolly dog. We’re going on an adventure.”

-3-

Shadow people.

People who breathe in the dark and exhale the night. The people who exist the in small hours, and make the dark, damp concrete their playground.

They exist in everyday life. They look normal and can speak to the humans who live by day as if they are the same, but ultimately, shadow people always see each other, and recognise. Like knows like.

It’s the unnecessarily sharp edge to a grin. It’s the hollowness behind the eyes. It’s the barely controlled madness and yearning underneath a thin veneer of civilisation.

That is why when Viktor stepped out of the arrival doors, he saw immediately who had been sent to meet him apart from the fact that the suit was recognisable from his previous encounter with the Katsuki clan, the man had the same generic dark hair, the flatness of the eyes and downward turn of mouth.

Did Katsuki Yuuri prefer all his minions to look the same? That must get boring.

He ignored his escort for the time it took him to retrieve Makkanin, still in drug-induced sleep in his carrier. Then he wheeled his trolley over and they fell into step, with the minion leading ahead.

The trip was silent and laughably typical. He was shown into a shiny black car, his dog stowed in the large trunk, and there were another two Katsuki clones already waiting in the car. Viktor didn’t quite hide his sardonic grin, and ignored their intense looks in favour of looking out the window.

He had never been to Hasetsu, and had very little time to do any research on it in the waiting room before the flight. But the scenery was oddly quieting, giving the impression of being a small town that had grown and grown until it wasn’t small any longer, but still maintained the presence of one. A bear, sleeping in a cave, waiting for summer. It seemed an odd place for an organized crime base, but he wasn’t anyone to judge.

He didn’t think about the act that he had left everything behind in less than a moment to come here on Yuri Katsuki’s invitation. That he was in a strange country with no-one and nothing but his dog. That a Japanese crime lord had paid for his trip all the way to Japan for reasons unexplained.

Shadow people know shadow people. Their place is anywhere after dark.

And the thing about shadow people, is that within themselves, _the sun never rises._


	3. Investment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  I have also gone along with making Pichit kind of a wierdo. I hope this doesn't offend anyone.  
> And also, Both Viktor and Yuuri are badass mothefuckas.

It was still another week before Viktor was called in to see Yuuri face to face. He had been given a small, extremely homely room in a local bathhouse. It had one bed and bathroom for his use, but the garden was large enough that Makkachin had space to roam and snuffle out any local creatures to his heart’s content. 

He was idly braiding his waist length hair back into a tight queue when a slight knock alerted him. He had been looking out into the sunset, thinking of nothing much while Makkachin rolled around in something that was sure to cause burrs in his thick coat later.

He turned and the small landlady smiled benignly at him. She never spoke, only smiled. Viktor assumed she only spoke Japanese, and most likely her bathhouse had ties with the Katsuki clan, and that was why, when he had been deposited at her door, she hadn’t blinked an eye. Smilingly, she had taken his bags, petted his dog, and cooked his meals for the past week. Viktor found it relaxing and odd at the same time.

This time though, her smile was accompanied by the small innocuous gesture that communicated for him to follow. He tossed the plait over his shoulder and did as bid.

An hour later, he was led into a large house which was equal parts old-world Japanese style and newer, more modern furnishings. History and opulence were evident in the intricately painted, ancient urns set into alcoves and on pedestals. It showed in the quality of the carpet and the mosaic meticulously inlaid floor. Viktor wished he had more time to admire the painting of a writhing dragon, completed in broad strokes of ink and delicate details in gold leaf, which took up the entire wall of the atrium.

But there were cameras too, the small unobtrusive kind, nestled into nooks and behind curtains hooks. Here and there, evidence of tech and subversive voyeurism. Even within the Katsuki stronghold, trust was not a given.

His eyes took in details carefully, even as the man with the green and gold embroidered serpent on his back led him at pace through the house. The tight embroidery caught the light as he moved, and the fangs of the snake inched deceptively closer to the silver crescent.

Eventually, they came to a large pair of heavy wood doors. The man turned to fix him with a glare that Viktor was no longer even remotely perturbed by and jerked his head towards them in small indication. Viktor sighed noisily at the man and stepped forward, pushing the doors open and stepping through.

It may have been a studio or a gallery of sorts at one time, or perhaps it had always been a training room. The windows soared high and lit up space as well as the two currently sparring figures on the mat below. There were an array of weapons gilding the walls, and Viktor was unsure if they were for actual use, or simple display. At present, the fighters used staffs in their sparring, and no one turned to watch him enter. He took the opportunity to observe, both the room and its occupants. In a moment, he spotted Katsuki Yuuri, on the far side of the wide room.

The smaller man was smoking a cigar and watching the fighters, wearing a tight-fitting waistcoat, hair slicked back. It appeared as if he hadn’t changed his expression since the last time Viktor had seen him either. Everything about Katsuki Yuuri was grace and ease and power. The kind of dispassionate observation on life that came from knowing that one is the most dangerous thing in the room.

He didn’t speed his pace, but made a slow way to his new employer. The same, fever-eyed guard stood beside him, watching him avidly as he approached.

  
Viktor bowed.

“Katsuki Yuuri.”

“Viktor Nikiforov.” Yuuri replied eventually. “You have finally graced us with your presence.”

“I was waiting for an invitation. I’ve heard it’s rude to simply appear.”

Yuuri only sucked on the cigar some more, making grey clouds around his face, and letting them curl up under his eyebrows and around his cheeks.

“Some would say that being sponsored both travel and board would constitute enough instruction.”

“I prefer things to be explicitly stated."  Viktor replied. The guard beside him had turned his body towards Viktor, eyes blinking slowly and head tilted, his entire being almost vibrating with energy. It was a stark contrast to Yuuri, whose every movement was class and ease. The delicate eyebrows on his face arched ever so slightly and he nodded.

“A good policy,” Yuuri said, bringing his left foot upon his thigh and stubbing his cigar out on the sole. He didn’t struggle with balance at all. “I shall be blunt. You are on probation. Before I can hire you I need to know if you’re worth the investment.”

Viktor tried not to bristle. He had a reputation. At least ten years in the shadows and his name was something whispered to frighten children and adults alike. And yet, he had to prove himself?

“I am.” He said baldly. Yuuri threw a bored look his way and went back to the fighters.

“I assume you know about the Katsuki clan.” Yuuri said. “but you know only the surface. You know nothing about how we operate. We are not like you _Russians_ ,” this was said with a dismissive wave a slightly disgusted tone. The guard beside him twitched.

“You know my qualifications. If you didn’t think I was worth the investment, then why bring me here?” Viktor replied, letting some of his annoyance through.

This time Yuuri looked at him properly. The singeing Viktor experience from the contact made heat rise on his shoulders.

“The investment I refer to has nothing to do with money, but everything to do with my reputation. What you are to me at this stage is worth the price of a plane ticket. For me, that is like a penny in the pond. I spend more money in a day than one hundred of those. So no, the fact that I have invited you here indicates nothing other than I find you interesting enough for a second meeting.”

Viktor blinked but settled. He should have realized it was brash of him to assume anything else. Yuuri swung out an arm to the wide room, indicating the fighters and the rest of it.

“Everyone who wears the Katsuki emblem has earned it. Through service, years of loyalty, and tests. No one in my employ is here without my express approval.”

Yuuri stepped closer, looking up at Viktor while the corner of his mouth turned into a delicate grin that anything but innocent.

“To earn the Katsuki serpent, you must prove yourself. In many ways. If this displeases you or hurts your sense of pride, this will be your last chance to leave. I promise no repercussions. And barring some unfortunate, unpredictable future encounter, you would never hear from me again.”

Yuuri’s eyes didn’t leave him, and Viktor found himself locked in place. There was a slight upward tilt of his chin, a challenge. On any other man, it might look like flirtation. But here, Viktor felt Yuuri was a cat waiting to see if Viktor was a toy.

He thought of leaving. For the briefest moment. Then allowed his own grin to emerge.

“But I do enjoy the food. Why would I go back to Russia, when the meals are so satisfying here?”

Yuuri’s eyes flickered once more, again, the kind of movement only Viktor could see. For some reason, it was incredibly satisfying, to make Katsuki Yuuri do that and to know he was the only one that had seen. And made him want to know exactly what it meant.

“Hmm.” Was all Yuuri replied and stepped away again, back to the guard. “I’ll tell my mother you like her cooking.”

His mother? Before Viktor could recover and respond, Yuuri carried on, flicking the butt of the cigar to the floor.

“This is Phichit. He will assess your physical skills. Enjoy.”

Viktor swallowed and met the now far too delighted looking Phichit’s eyes. “I will.” He said.

Yuuri glanced at him over his shoulder. “I wasn’t speaking to you.”


	4. A fight is like a dance

Silver tendrils had escaped Viktor’s carefully twisted bun at the nape of his neck and were stuck to his skin with sweat. He panted hard, but he grinned.   

“Your hair is so STUPID!” Phichit shrieked at him, sounding like a small child, but with a mania that was most definitely absent in children. He stood at the edge of the practice mats, while Viktor was being pushed into the ground by one opponent, and the other was already rising from where Viktor had laid him out a moment earlier.

He ignored the delighted little cackle from Pichit, (in the privacy of his mind Viktor called him the JumpUppy Crazy One) and managed to slide his shoulder forward just enough and buck backwards, too fast for the man above him to react in time, and the slightly loosened hold gave him room to roll away. He flipped himself forward, landing on his left arm and bringing his left leg around with heavy momentum, and was rewarded when his heel connected with the chin of the other man who had just been pinning him. He followed it up quickly with a second heel, twisting on his shoulder and flipping himself right up again.

It was just in time to see his previously floored opponent launch at him legs first, and he tilted back, letting his spine arch and muscles clench before grabbing the swinging leg and bringing a hard elbow into the side of his knee. There were two sounds; a crack, and a quickly suppressed scream.

With two opponents down, if not unconscious, Viktor pushed his errant hair away from his face and sent a glare towards the giggling observer who paced the edge of the mats. He blinked in surprise. Was the idiot actually taking a photo of him?

He _was_. He was actually holding his phone out and snapping away, before turning himself around and taking a selfie, peace sign included.

JumpUppy crazy one.

“I’m done here,” Viktor said, after spitting out a mass of blood and spit.

Phichit _tched_ and put his phone away. “You dance so prettily. But the fight is only over when your opponent can no longer breathe.”

“I wasn’t aware that Katsuki Yuuri wanted me to kill his current employees in an effort to prove myself.” Viktor retorted, folding his arms.

Pichit flashed him a smile with too many teeth. “You don’t get to call him that. You call him Bosu.”

They stared at one another while ignoring the grunts of his previous attackers. Pichit was smiling but it was edgy and brittle as if he were as likely to bite as to laugh. Viktor was not afraid of him, but he was wary. Men like Phichit could be…unpredictable. But he was so obviously Yuuri’sright-handd man, so he must have some sort of redeeming quality that didn’t involve him rabidly frothing at the mouth on command.

“If Katsuki Yuuri prefers me to call him by another name, he will tell me himself.” Viktor said, abruptly feeling frustrated. “I want to leave, be clean and be fed. If you have no more men for me to best, I think I’ll be leaving.”

Pichit’s grin somehow managed to grow even wider, and Viktor estimation of his crazy level went up a notch. Phichit tucked his thumbs into the belt loops of his pants and began a slow back and forth sway on his heels.

“You seem bored, Russian boy. Shall we make it interesting?”

Viktor shook out his shoulders in a kind of casual insult, and replied in an exasperated way. “I suppose you have an idea of how to make it interesting then.”

Pichit nodded and gestured to the far right wall, where a selection of weapons hung for use. “We can add ingredients to the mix.”

Viktor sighed and gestured to the fallen two. “And who must I fight? I do not spar with injured people. There’s no point.”

Pichit laughed his ridiculous laugh again. “Stupid Russian. With your pretty face and you pretty hair and your pretty dancing. You and I, we will spar.”

Viktor gave him a cool assessing look. While he was still heated from his exertions, he wasn’t winded and the fight itself hadn’t taken long. Phichit was small, but Viktor knew that size had nothing to do with ability. And in truth, he was curious to see what about Phichit made him valuable to Yuuri.

Eventually, Viktor strode casually over to the wall of weaponry and made a show of selecting one tool over another. He slid a finger along a heavy wooden staff, he weighed pair of nun-chucks in his hands. Eventually he walked away as he came, empty handed. Pichit eyes were wide and bright with curiosity.

“And so? None of them suit the great Viktor Silver Nikiforov?”

Viktor stretched his arms upwards, popping his shoulders. “I prefer to use my knives. In this case, I would be fine unarmed.”

Pichit giggled and jauntily stepped on over to the wall himself, humming over its contents until choosing a staff with the ends wrapped in leather and ended with tassling.

The other two beaten men had already hobbled off the mats, darting curious and furtive looks back as Viktor and Phichit faced each other with meagre distance between them.

“A wager, silver Russian. I am fond of wagers.” Phichit said, as he removed most of his clothing until he was left only in his form fitting boxers. Now Viktor could see that though the man was slight, he was well-muscled, and by the way he picked up and twirled the heavy staff in one hand like a baton, strong too.

“I honestly don’t care what you’re fond of.” Viktor replied, sinking into a starting stance, legs apart, elbows floating and muscles loose.

Pichit twitched but went on. “If I beat you: you leave. You do not fill out your probation.”

Viktor concentrated on flexing his toes and the awareness of his sprung muscles. “That is not a deal for you to make. I am here on Yuuri’s invitation, not yours.”

Pichit twitched harder this time. “Do not call him that. He is not yours.”

 _Is he yours?_ Wondered Viktor. _Or perhaps, you wish he was?_

“Do we have a deal?” Phichit went on, tone edgy now.

“No.” Viktor replied equably. “I do not care for wagers. And even if I did, my presence here is for Yuuri to welcome or dismiss, not you.”

“But it’s yours too, not so? You are allowed to leave and you _should_. “ Phichit sneered. “You do not belong here Viktor Silver. You are an outsider. You are as different from us, a rabbit among snakes.” Pichit leaned closer, and now he was far more madness and much less jaunty man-child. “One is the predator you see? You will not last here, you are not of our kind. You are here out of some unfortunate sense of honour, and not because you have any value to Bosu whatsoever.”

Viktor had kept his face schooled to indifference the entire time Phichit spoke, but now he reacted. Making sure to roll his eyes dramatically and sigh hugely he tilted his head to look indulgently at JumpUppy Crazy One.

“Phichit, are you jealous of my hair? You keep mentioning it.”

Much to Viktor’s relief, the fight finally began with Phichit’s staff swinging around as if to behead him by force alone. Viktor allowed himself was short laugh before he threw himself against Phichit’s skill.

The fight went on a much longer while than the previous one had, even though it was one on one this time. Phichit was ferocious, pushing all his energy and stamina into every punch, swing and kick, and hardly taking a breather before launching again. Viktor was privately astonished that a person could fight in such a way so continuously. It was like unleashing a small, evil demon. One who took as much pleasure in the fight itself as in landing a hit. He was strong, and quick, and his size made him a more challenging target so Viktor had to adjust his style to aim for closer to his body and keep Phichit's harsh little beatings to his diaphragm and ribs.

What made the experience disquieting was the way Phichit giggled. His mania was clear now, and he enjoyed inflicting pain.

“Do you wish you had your knives now, Silver?” Phichit said in a brief moment stepping away before darting back in.

Viktor saw the movement before it occurred and met Phichit belly with his fist. Knowing he would recover near instantly, Viktor quickly laid two punches to his lower back. The dark-haired man gasped, and rolled away.

It was a jerky dance, but Viktor knew the outcome long before it had ended.

He kneeled his knee against Phichit’s Adam’s apple and pressed warningly, holding the man's arms above his head and locking them there. Now that he had Phichit pinned down under his weight, the little creature was useless. They both laboured their breathing, and while Phichit shot daggers with his eyes, he could do nothing about Viktor straddling him. Viktor knew that in less than ten minutes, Phichit’s body would crash and cash in all the debt Pichit had been demanding.

“You would have lost your bet.” Viktor told him. “I’m going to release you now. Don’t be an idiot.”

Viktor did as he said he would, and letting himself rise to his feet slowly, feeling the twitch and seethe of his heated muscles. He was tired now, and his plait had come completely out of its tie, so it slapped wetly against his back. Pichit sprang to his feet quickly, but couldn’t hide the fact that his own body was spent now. Viktor suspected that while he would be good for quick, dirty work, he was useless for long drawn out encounters. He filed the information away for further use.

“Are you done?” a soft voice called from the door, and Viktor turned to see Yuuri there, still dressed the same, but hands in pockets, watching them both.

“I was done about half an hour ago, but your pet here wanted to play.” Viktor replied snarkily, if only to nettle Phichit. “Have I proved myself enough for today?”

Yuuri gave him a considering look before letting his eyes rest on Phichit questioningly. Viktor didn’t see what the other man did behind him, as his eyes were fixed on Yuuri, but whatever it was, caused Yuuri to give a single nod.

“Yes.” Yuuri told him. “May I ask however, about your methods? I have never seen that style of fighting before.”

Viktor pushed the rest of his hair behind an ear and walked over to where his clothes had been laid earlier. He hated pulling clothes over a sweaty, bloody body, but he had no choice.

“It’s called Capoeira.”

“Ah yes.” Yuuri replied. “I have heard the word in relation to you. It’s not Russian.” It was a statement not a question and Viktor answered as such.

“No, it isn’t.” he said, dragging his shirt on and facing Yuuri.

Yuuri gave him another measured, intense look. “I will say, you execute it quite elegantly.”

Viktor had no response to that, but couldn’t quite look away for a moment. Then he remembered himself and bowed.

“Until you next summon me, Katsuki Yuuri.” Viktor said.

“Until then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Capoeira is in place of ice-skating at the fluid connector for these two. Also, so they can 'dance together'. It will all make sense later on.
> 
> Hope no one minds too much that I made Pichit a psycho.


	5. Purpose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, but it's coming I promise.  
> SO here we see more of Viktor's motivations. It's a bit sad but in keeping with being parallel to Viktor in the show.  
> I have a feeling this fic is going to get a bt more complicated than i had planned.
> 
> I hope you're enjoying it!  
> Tumblr is https://micaelavdb.tumblr.com/

There were more tests. Many different kinds, and not all to do with the physical.

Viktor was summoned sparingly at first, and he was content to wait. But one day he was provided with a small blue Fiat and a GPS and that told him he was expected to be at the Katsuki manor more often now.

It remained within the realm of fighting, and at first Viktor’s style was sneered at. Viktor highly suspected Phichit of encouraging that particular opinion. However, as the weeks passed and Viktor remained unbeaten,  their disdain melted into a mixture of envy and curiosity.

The first time a Katsuki member asked Viktor to repeat a move so that he could observe better, it was awkward and jerky. Very few of the clan could speak English, and accents were like speaking around stones. But the realm of training is physical, and they overcame the obstacle of language by other means and soon, Viktor found himself teaching through example, rather than with his fists.

Within a week, he saw some of his moves being used and repeated in other matches. In return, one or two of the minions corrected his own false motions when imitating the more eastern styles of combat they used. There was no conversation, but it was a kind of connection that could only be made by those accustomed to those who use thier bodies with force.

And all the while, Katsuki Yuuri watched.

He wasn’t always there. But he would make his appearance by slinking subtly into the training room. Sometimes for a minute, sometimes longer. Viktor never let himself linger over the smaller man’s figure, but he knew the presence of the smaller man like a firebrand in the room, and he couldn’t help but feel a heightened awareness at these times.

He couldn’t account for it. It didn’t make him fight better or harder. But he knew, somewhere in his mind, he waited for the man's eyes to see him, to watch him, and waited for judgment.

On one particular day, Viktor had managed to hook his leg around the neck of Akihiko, jerking him to the ground with a heavy thud. He knew the man would have whiplash later but he grinned nonetheless.

“You cheat.” Akihiko complained at him from the floor.

“You slow.” Viktor replied, in very basic Japanese.

Akihiko's hand whipped out and Viktor knew he was aiming for the silver rope of a braid that fell down his back. It had become such an expected move from any of his opponents, that he didn’t even think before turning his head away and landing an unfriendly punch on the fallen man’s diaphragm.

“Akihiko, you are predictable.” He told the now coughing man.

A soft voice said something quickly in Japanese. He turned slightly to see that Yuuri had ghosted up beside him and was now looking down at Akihiko. The man blinked back tears from being winded and responded as best he could while still trying to breathe. Then he got up, bowed to them both and walked away, presumably to find another partner.

“Why do you not cut your hair? Are you vain?” Yuuri inquired of Viktor lightly.

Viktor blinked at Yuuri's dark eyes which held nothing but mild curiosity. Then he pulled his braid over his shoulder.

Viktor had been vain. Once. But it seemed many lives ago now.

“It’s more of a habit.” Viktor replied honestly. “Does it bother you?” he asked, knowing that everyone else within the Katsuki manor had short, close cut hair, never longer than one’s ears.

Yuuri looked away again, observing the training room, which was at this time, filling with men and women alike. “It could be a liability in a fight.”

Viktor shrugged. “Not for me.”

“So it seems.” Yuuri replied quietly, and again fixed Viktor with a laconic look that nevertheless felt like the touch of hot coals. Viktor never intended to, but found himself always waiting for those eyes to find him. “Come with me.”

It was the first time Yuuri had acknowledged him beyond the training room, and the first time he had been allowed anywhere but there. As he followed Yuuri out of the doors, he saw that Phichit was throwing him murderous looks once more. He wiggled his fingers in a short, cheeky wave before moving passed. Since losing to Viktor in a duel, Pichit had lost his more innocent childlike affectations and all that was left was the mania and an infantile kind of pouting in his direction.

“Why doesn’t Phichit like me?” Viktor asked as he as Yuuri fell into step walking through a corridor unfamiliar to Viktor.

“Do you want him to like you?” Yuuri said, side stepping the question as he always did. “What does it matter if anyone here likes you?”

“I think it matters to you that I get along with your men. Or you would not have asked me to train with them for the last three weeks.” Viktor eventually said. “But above that, I think it matters more that you trust me.”

Yuuri spared him a sideways glance but said. “You are a long way from my trust yet, Viktor Silver.”

“But isn’t it nice to know that I want to earn it?” Viktor replied before he could think about what his mouth was saying. What a strange thing to admit to. Yuuri stopped in front of a door. And turned to him in pause.

“I think that at this point Viktor Silver, you gain a fair amount of enjoyment from trying to earn it. Why are you here Viktor?”

Yuuri’s gaze was locked on Viktor now, making him immovable. All of Viktor’s wandering thoughts about the manor, about leaving the training room, about inter-colleague relations or the expensive carpet on which they walked retracted in with a snap and centred solely on the man before him.

He was small, was Katsuki Yuuri, who wore a dark waistcoat with mother of pearl buttons and an embossed serpent pattern into the silk fabric. But his decadence was merely a red herring. Because Yuuri _blazed_.

“I am here because you invited me.” Viktor answered.

“Let me be clearer. Why did you ask me for employ? Over a chance, unplanned encounter that you had no reason to engage in. You saved my life, and I owe you for it. You could have asked for many things, I have many things I could offer. And yet, you asked to work for me, in a country not your own, in a clan you have little real knowledge of. I would like an explanation more eloquent that ‘an open calendar’.”

Viktor heard the words and rethreaded them through the needle of his own experience. Why had he asked? He hadn’t intended it, and neither had he intended to avert the man’s death. It should have mattered nothing to him.

And yet.

He _had_ asked. And he had _waited_.

“I asked for the only thing I could want from you.” He eventually answered.

Yuuri tilted his head to the left a fraction. “The only thing you want from me is a job? Money? A space filler in your life until something else arises?”

Viktor realised how it seemed then and sought to correct quickly. “No. Yes, I want to work for you. But…” and here Viktor paused, because he couldn’t go on without revealing more about himself than he had ever really intended to. But Yuuri stood before him, hand in pockets at ease and expectant. Viktor knew he would have to be honest in this moment, or the trust he had bragged about earning would never be his.

“I had come to a point in my life where I had nothing. A reputation, that is all. No family, no colleagues and... no desire for my next breath. I was there that night because I was hired for a small business man as a bodyguard. It was the first I had left my home in a week. Instinct caused me to intervene on the attempt on your life. But when you offered me something in exchange for a life debt, I asked for the only thing that I could possibly want anymore.”

Yuuri seemed to lean closer without moving at all. “And what was that?”

“Purpose.” Viktor answered softly.

Again, the flicker of eyelids. So slight as to not exist. Viktor finally recognised it.

Surprise.

The words left his mouth before his brain could interrupt.

“Let me surprise you.”

Yuuri held his eyes for a moment or two longer before looking away. He lifted a hand to the door handle, and it swung open with barely a touch. Inside, was a bedroom, far better furnished than the one he used at the bath house.

“This is your new room, Viktor Silver Nikiforov. You now share my home, along with your colleagues.” Yuuri said, eyes directed within. “Your things are already within. Your dog has been left at the bath house. It is up to you whether you bring him here or not, I do not mind animals as long as they are well trained.”

He turned away without another glance but stopped at Viktor’s shoulder.

“Do not disappoint me, Viktor.”


	6. Tests

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor is asked to prove his worth with one final, explicit test. But he refuses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah, this one is longer than usual. But is a turning point for these two.
> 
> Ya'll liking it so far?  
> yay :)

For the first time in fifteen years, Viktor found himself at the bottom tier of a criminal organization.

It wasn’t a terrible blow to his pride, as it turned out.

And as it was, he didn’t think he would be there for long. Having almost two decades of experience under his belt made the tests familiar, if not easy.

And the tests came.

There were two ways to find whether you fit within an organization like the Katsuki clan, which was, in essence, a mob which based its success on loyalty that was almost fanatical.

Even from his brief time in the training room, and with his still very fledgling Japanese, he could see it. When any of the upper echelons of the Katsuki clan were in the vicinity, there was a deference, respect, and eagerness to please that came from the twisted kind of love that this kind of organization fostered.

The other way to know if you fit was your threshold and affinity for violence.

On that, Viktor didn’t have to try very hard. Violence was something that came to him when he called for it. He wasn’t by nature aggressive at all, only someone who had a talent for it. He viewed this quality within himself quite dispassionately now, though once, he was proud of it.

Now, it was something to make Katsuki Yuuri watch him.

When he was invited out on business runs, he dressed well. He carried his knives in cleverly hidden pockets within his suits. He was quiet and observant and did as he was asked.

He proved himself capable by showing his skill in a variety of weapons and combat forms, including guns, blades, and staves. Even more long distance tools like gas and smoke bombs. He preferred blades, and was most capable with his own collection of point-knives. Upon seeing one of the others practicing with a Katana, a blade he had never bothered to learn because of its obscene length, he decided to learn it, if only to widen his repertoire.

He couldn’t say why, but he _wanted_ to Katsuki Yuuri to watch him. Possibly, he thought, it was because whenever Yuuri was within the room, Viktor’s focused was honed down to a single figure.

It was as if somehow Yuuri had told him, ‘ _Keep your eyes on me_.' Though the man had never said any such thing. At least, not to him.

Viktor could see he was not alone in this. If Yuuri was in the room, he commanded attention by doing little more than breathing. His underlings waited and obeyed, Phichit, who was still his shadow whenever Yuuri left the manor, watched his boss with a kind of zealous thirst. Viktor knew he wasn’t alone.

But the difference was this; Viktor wasn’t afraid of the head of clan, unlike his underlings. He didn’t worship him, or live for his approval. And he didn’t yearn after him the way Phichit so clearly did.

No, Viktor’s desire was simpler.

He only wanted to be _seen_. By Katsuki Yuuri. In whatever way possible, he wanted to _matter_ to him.

As the weeks flowed into months, the need became more strident, until Viktor could only acknowledge it as a pathetic need within himself. He couldn’t make demands of any kind, not here, and not to him.

But in his own way, he made himself more visible. He wore his hair in its long braid openly, instead of tying it into a neat knot at the base of his neck, whenever he was seen publicly with the Katsuki clan. He refused the black beetle wardrobe of the other minions, and kept his own suits and clothes, which were all either Gray or silver, to match his unusually light coloured hair and the blueness of his eyes. And it gave him an inordinate amount of pleasure, when one day Yuuri had stopped near him in the atrium of the manor on his way elsewhere, had given him a very obvious once over, and nodded. Viktor would have bet that as he walked away, there was a glimmer of grin there, at the secretive corner of Yuuri’s mouth.

It was even more encouraging when, on another day, another underling was berated for having his hair too long.

Viktor wasn’t sure if the fact that he was being allowed to single himself out from the others was a good or a bad thing, in terms of social grease, but ultimately it didn’t matter. Because Katsuki Yuuri had yet to send him away.

 

-*-

 

Viktor’s room at the manor was large enough for his bed (futon), one couch and one small table. Though he was allowed as much as anyone to eat in the kitchen with anyone else who wandered through there, he was also accustomed to taking his meals alone, and was more often than not grateful for the solitude.

Except for Makkachin. His dog had been such a constant presence in his life it was strange to do basic, mundane things without him. He was so used to giving the hound his plates to lick clean, he found himself leaving bowls on the floor without thinking. But he hadn’t decided it was safe enough for Makkachin to him yet. From his three times weekly visits to the bathhouse, the woolly dog was happy enough, though the way he slavered Viktor with drool was probably an indicator of missing his owner at least a little.

And also, there was something…significant about leaving his dog with Katsuki Yuuri’s mother, who seemed very happy with the job.

It was a connection that only he, Viktor, had with Yuuri.

Yuuri would sometimes speak to him, ask him about a meeting Viktor had attended with his more important employees, what Viktor had observed, or been asked to do. Thus far, Viktor hadn’t been required to enact any sort of violence on anyone, but it seemed that what Yuuri wanted to see was the keenness of Viktor’s mind.

“What did you learn? Can he be trusted? Did you see the gold bauble in his left ear? What does that mean?”

And at these times, Phichit would scowl, Viktor would answer and Yuuri would attend everything he said with laser focus.

“They are men with divided loyalties. He wears the jewelry bought by another, but not a lover. I saw the same stud in Amery’s ear the week before, so I suspect it’s an employer.”

“And why would they not be honest with us about this?” Yuuri asked with a tilt of his head.

“Because they are clearly owned by someone other than who they have said before,” Viktor replied. “They wear it like your men wear your serpent.”

Yuuri nodded briefly. “You do not wear it, however.”

Again, Yuuri would somehow turn the conversation to Viktor, and when that happened, Viktor’s eyes gleamed and he couldn’t help but grin at least a little.

“I wasn’t aware they were handing them out to new recruits,” Viktor said. “Did I miss mine?”

“To be given the serpent is a mark of honor and trust, Russian.” Phichit snapped from behind Yuuri, never far.

It didn’t deter Viktor however, he kept his gaze locked with Yuuri. “Then I will wait until Katsuki Yuuri gives mine to me.”

Again, the flicker. How Viktor loved that movement. And this time, he could even describe it as mirthful.

“Come.” Yuuri said then, eyes snapping away and leaving Viktor with minor whiplash.

He followed them both, Yuuri and Phichit, through another unfamiliar set of hallways. The Katsuki manor was far larger than it seemed from the front, and while Viktor had explored some of its more beautiful corridors, guestrooms, and open gardens, he knew there were places he had yet to be given permission to access. He was patient enough to wait, and curiosity didn’t eat him anyway.

They went down a set of stairs and Viktor had the sense that they were now below ground level. The corridor they were in now was completely unlike the rest of the manor. It was a place stripped of any kind of distinction or color. Low grey ceilings with harsh white light filled a concrete hallway, with grey steel doors at small intervals. They stopped at the third one on the left and Yuuri took out a cigar. Phichit immediately whipped out a cigar-cutter and silver zippo from his too tight clothes and handed them silently to Yuuri, who went about puffing the stick into life. Soon the small space was filled with sweet smoke, which was caught in the bright, halogen light above them.

“Viktor Silver Nikiforov, I am pleased with you. It’s been proven that you would be an asset to my company, and after these months, and much background research into your prior life, I am convinced this isn’t a rather obvious attempt at infiltration. You have a good work ethic and you are clearly eager, if not as…subtle as the kind of people I usually work with.” Viktor was treated to a rare, sardonic half smile. “But upon reflection, I think that your particular…personal image will work in your favor, and thus mine.”

“Or get you shot first,” Phichit added sourly, with folded arms and a pout.

“Oh stop, Phichit.” Yuuri admonished mildly. “Your opinion has been noted.”

“And ignored,” Phichit said back to him, eyes flashing. “If this man is around you, or any of us-“

“Enough,” Yuuri said quietly, but it had bite now and Phichit immediately retreated, even physically backing away a step.

“You do not, and never will have, final say in any such matters Phichit. Remember your place.” Yuuri told him while blowing out a huge cloud of sweet smoke.

Phichit didn’t even reply, only nodded, so thoroughly was he cowed by his master. Viktor could sympathize, if not feel the fear himself.

“But now, Viktor, I must see one last thing from you. And then, I will give you your serpent.”

Viktor watched Yuuri until the man met his gaze.

“Then show me.”

Yuuri leaned to open the door, the handle squealing slightly, and letting it swing open.

Viktor blinked.

In typical mob style, there was a man tied to a chair in the middle of the room. He appeared unhurt, but his eyes were blindfolded, ears covered and his mouth gagged. The sweat dripped down his forehead and from the way it darkened the fabric on his face, he had been there for some time. There was no movement but for the small rise and fall of his chest.

“This is Te Zhuan. He is a small-time criminal, never been arrested, known to dribble information into a policeman’s ear for a meal or a smoke. Two nights ago, he saw one of my men enacting a deal with a restaurant owner, a deal which allows all of us a mutual benefit and adds to the Katsuki clans coffers in a very useful way.”

Yuuri walked up to the man in the room, quiet, one hand in pocket and the other waving the cigar idly as he spoke. The prisoner made no indication that he heard anything at all.

“We found him on the way to deliver this information, along with my man’s identity, to the friendly policemen. Now, he has earned a punishment.” Yuuri stopped just behind the slumped figure. “What do you think this punishment should be, Phichit?”  
Phichit, who was standing beside Viktor then, tapped a nail against his teeth thoughtfully. “Well, I think at least his finger. Or two. And perhaps two cuts beneath his ears, not enough to severe, but enough to bleed a while.”

Katsuki Yuuri met Viktor’s eyes. “And what do you think Viktor Silver?”

It took Viktor a moment to respond. “I think that perhaps I am wearing the wrong clothes for this.”

Yuuri didn’t look away. “Clothes are washable. Replaceable if need be.”

Viktor huffed and tried to reply with a witty comment but stopped. There was something…not quite right. He looked hard at Yuuri, whose expression remained impassive.

Viktor tried for clarity. “You want me to hurt this man for you?”

From beside him, Phichit made a disgusted noise. “Stupid, Russian. Yes, that is what your boss wants.”

But Viktor tried again, taking a step closer. “Katsuki Yuuri, do you want me to hurt this man for you?”

Viktor ignored Phichit’s disbelieving snigger and watchecloselyse. And there it was.

The flicker.

Viktor deliberated a moment, then stepped back again, away from both men. He made a risky decision.

“I will not.” He said simply.

Yuuri’s eyes widened. “You will not do this thing?”

“You see?” Pichit crowed beside him, “I told you! He is weak! A has-been who has no stomach for blood anymore. Why do you think the Russians threw him away?”

  
Viktor huffed and said. “I would like to speak to you alone, Katsuki Yuuri.”

This was bold, even for Viktor. To ask to be alone with the Katsuki clans most precious, important character, while knowingly having weapons on his person…

But Yuuri blinked slowly, then;

“Phichit.”

“You want me to find another chair, Boss?” the mnic man replied, eagerly.

“Wait outside.”

Phichit strangled cry was almost comical, and Viktor would have enjoyed seeing his stupid face but he had yet to leave Yuuri’s gaze. It seemed like a livewire connection, and when looking a tiger in the eye, you don’t look away.

“But-“

“And close the door.” Yuuri finished with finality.

Phichit was obviously fuming, and Viktor hoped he would get the chance to needle him about the whole situation later, but in the moment, there were more important things.

The click of the door closing was not completely without serious huffing.

Yuuri narrowed his eyes, completely unaffected by essentially being alone with Viktor Silver Nikiforov, and pointed his cigar hand at him.

“You would throw away my regard for this? Because you do not like violence? Is it true what they say, they you are like a dog with its teeth removed?”

Viktor shrugged a little. “I do not believe in violence without reason. But that is not my reasoning here.”

“My order should be reason enough. Why do you refuse this?” Yuuri had the steel edge to his voice now, and Viktor wondered what it would be like to fight a man who was so fearless, so confident in himself.

Or even to touch such a man.

Instead of speaking, he raised an arm and slipped free one of his trail point knives. Yuuri eyes followed the movement, watchful, critical and not remotely on guard. Then Viktor lifted the knife to the back of his head.

Pulling his braid away from his scalp, he cut through the thick cord of hair easily, since he kept his knives sharp. The hair came away with a silky sound, the end uneven because of the hasty cut. He held the braid out, glancing at it and frowning.

Then he stepped closer to Yuuri, who was no longer frowning but eyes open and clear and…surprised. Viktor held the cord of silver grey hair out with a bow, and waited until it was taken from him.

He straightened and said. “Yuuri, I am loyal to you. I will obey your every order. The reason I do not want to hurt this man, is because you do not truly want me to.”

Yuuri had still completely now, head tilted up to see Viktor and see the authentic in his words.

“I could tell, because you did not explicitly ask me to do so. And you never curb your words, you are always direct. And your eyes told me.” Viktor said. “If I had hurt him, if I had done what you did not explicitly ask, I may have earned a place in your ranks but I wouldn’t have earned your trust. My braid…” here Viktor looked at it hanging from Yuuri loose clasp. “It is nothing to most men. But I would never have cut my hair for anyone else. I hope that serves in place of what you intended here, in this room.”

Viktor found he had nothing left to say, and unsure of what would happen next, he decided to leave.  
With a small bow, he turned, and walked past Phichit without a glance.


	7. The darkness behind the eyes

Viktor sat in his room, sharpening his knives.

It had been two days.

Two days since he had cut his hair and given it to Yuuri. Two days since he had consciously gone against a direct order from his new employer, an employer not known for mercy.

And nothing had changed.

No, Yuuri had not said a further word to him, and Phichit had gone from looking delightfully smug, to confused and annoyed by his confusion. Clearly, Yuuri hadn’t shared his plans with his shadow either.

But Viktor was still here and hadn’t lost any of his fingers.

Viktor had taken one look at his mop-like hair and somehow still had enough vanity left in him to leave to find a barber. It had taken some work to explain what he wanted, since he still didn’t know enough Japanese and in any case, only practiced English within the Katsuki walls. But eventually, he found a photo on his phone of a style he liked. It was shorter yes, but he refused to follow the norms of the other underlings. He was never going to be like them anyway. So it was styled short but still left long enough to swing over his eyes.

Reflecting on it, it was much less upkeep now.

And he wondered what Yuuri had done with the braid.

Eventually, after using his morning to train and feeling agitated and itchy with unfamiliar tension, he decided to go visit Makkachin. Climbing into his small blue car, he drove the twenty-minute long drive to the bathhouse, which was just about the only place he knew the direction of in Hasetsu. Even after 4 months, he still knew so little about Japan. He idly contemplated if it was worth trying to broaden his physical horizons.

In times long ago, he would have researched obsessively about any place he wasn’t familiar with until he knew it better virtually than the inhabitants. But now, it seemed less important. At least, until he was sure he would be staying there.

There was a peaceful aura around the bathhouse, as always. The late afternoon sun was hitting the west side, and set the wooden walls aglow, the dark red shingling looking baked and warm. As Viktor pulled into the drive, the crunch of his tyres must have alerted the dog, because Makkachin came bounding around the side, until he was level with the car.

Viktor chuckled as he managed to force the door open in spite of the hound’s bulk, and got a face full of slobber for his trouble. Makkachin put muddy paws in his lap and got burrs and grass on the seat, but Viktor didn’t care a bit. There was something everlasting about always being greeted with so much joy, and he could never find the will to condemn it or discipline it out of him.

“Yes, alright you filthy creature. Have you been chasing rabbits?”

Looking up he saw Katsuki Yuuri's mother at the front door, smiling her endlessly seraphic smile and then beckoning him within.

“Come on, woolly dog. I’m hungry.”

The meal wasn’t immediate as it was too early, and Viktor decided to help prepare. It wasn’t unusual, he had done so before, and the woman never seemed to grow weary of his inexpert hands or his lack of understanding. She made a brief gesture to his shorter hair, with a concerned look, then gave him vegetables to chop, or a spoon to stir. It was easy to work, quiet and serene. Viktor liked to think of it as a kind of thank you, though he knew that technically he didn’t owe her one at all.

In spite of himself, he was still fairly curious about the whole dynamic. Katsuki Yuuri, head of a massive, powerful and dangerous Japanese crime organization, allowing his mother to live alone in a bathhouse? It seemed ridiculous. And the woman never spoke with him, other than a few brief directive words, and Yuuri certainly hadn’t elaborated on anything.  
And Viktor figured there was very little point in asking any of his fellow minions for the information; even if they knew, it was likely private information.

He was shooed out of the kitchen when he had finished doing all he was actually capable of and Viktor went outside to throw sticks for the hound. The back garden opened out onto a meadow field, with grass at knee height and Makkachin reveled in bounding excitedly through the grass. Viktor assumed that Yuuri’s mother cared for him because in spite of his romping, his fur wasn’t a complete nest as it should have been. The thought made him feel strange. The woman owed him nothing after all. But perhaps her fondness for the animal was enough.

Knowing it would be another half hour before the food would be ready, so he decided on a bath. Knowing his way around was easy compared to the manor, and he found himself towels and let himself into the bathroom without bothering his host.

“No, you filthy creature. I am sure you’re not allowed in here.” He told Makkachin when the dog was looking at the water with anticipation. The hound collapsed on his paws with a small whine but Viktor only raised an eyebrow.

“Spoiled.” He muttered while sliding into the warmth and sighing a little. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, waiting for Yuuri’s ultimate judgment weighed on him some. He wondered if this was because he was back in the same world he had left a few years before, or if because Yuuri’s regard seemed to hold a lot of weight.

He heard the door to the bathroom slide open. Then turned to look over his shoulder, and froze.

As if his mind had become tired of simply thinking of Yuuri and conjured him up, there stood his new (hopefully) employer, looking mildly amused.

“Viktor Silver.” Yuuri acknowledged, still smartly dressed, black shoes reflecting the waning sunset.

It was a credit to Viktor’s bone-deep trained lack-of-reaction that he didn’t so much as blink slowly.

“Katsuki Yuuri. Come to bathe?” Viktor replied.

The amusement lingered and softened the edges of Yuuri’s eyes. “No.”

They shared a look a moment longer before Yuuri turned away.

“I suppose I’ll be joining you for dinner. My mother says it is almost ready.”

It didn’t take too long for Viktor to get dry and redressed, but even so, the sun had set and he found Yuuri's mother lighting lamps within the serving room and kitchen. When he arrived there, he found Yuuri already seated and scrolling through his phone with a bored expression. Viktor sat down across from him, legs folding neatly under the low table.

“I hope I haven’t interrupted time with your mother,” Viktor said, needing to fill the silence with something.

Yuuri flicked him a glance. “You did not.”

Viktor took a breath to speak, changed his mind and sighed it out. Then he changed his mind again.

“Did you come here to speak to me?”

Yuuri turned his screen off and laid it on the floor beside the table. His suit jacket was off, and he wore an expensive silk shirt in a blue so pale it was hardly a colour at all. If he had worn a tie, it was gone now. It was the most unkempt Viktor had ever seen him.

“I came to eat. As you said before, my mother cooks very good food.” Yuuri replied with a small cant to his head.

Viktor grinned. Very well, if they weren’t going to discuss heavier matters, he was fine with that. “Do you come to eat here often, then?”

Yuuri blinked and looked through the adjoining door briefly, to where his mother was cooking.

“I must because she will not come to the manor. If I am to enjoy her cooking, she forces me to travel here.”

“Ah, so cruel.” Viktor teased.

Yuuri blinked at him, then the corner of his mouth lifted briefly. “I suppose it is not such a burden.”

“Not for such a perfect meal, no.”

Yuuri nodded to that and leaned his elbows on the table. In spite of being alone with Viktor, he didn’t appear to be on his guard, and Viktor clicked.

“So where is the Jumpy Uppy Crazy One?” Viktor said, mirroring his position.

Yuuri gave him a blank look before suppressing a smirk. “Ah, I think you are speaking of Phichit?”

 “Exactly right.”

“Ah yes. He is outside, in the car.”

“Did you leave the windows open for him?”

“I think the last I saw, he had closed the windows, as your dog was trying to jump inside.”

Viktor laughed aloud. “He is a very social animal.”

“Unlike Phichit. And it seems my mother likes your dog. Do you plan on bringing him to the manor?”

Viktor shook his head. “His name is Makkachin. I’ve thought about it, but he seemed very content here. And like you say, your mother likes him. And his…enthusiasm may be slightly out of place at Katsuki manor.”

Yuuri nodded. “I think you may be right.”

They paused because Yuuri mother came in bearing two very large bowls, and placed them on the table before them. It smelled heavenly. They waited politely until she came back bearing her own bowl, and she and Yuuri exchanged soft spoken benediction in Japanese, before they were allowed to eat.

Viktor struggled with the chopsticks. He saw Yuuri’s raised eyebrow and frowned.

“I have never used chopsticks before.”

“Obviously.”

“But I have been told I have very nimble fingers.” Viktor retried as the chopstick slid from his hand again.

“Who told you such a lie?”

Viktor sighed out in slight frustration and Yuuri said something in quiet Japanese to his mother. It caused her to smile and pat Viktor’s shoulder before rising, and when she returned from the kitchen, she handed Viktor a fork and a spoon.

“ _Arigatō_.” Viktor told her, even though it sounded stilted and Yuuri coughed.

“Please, don’t butcher my language the way you butcher Katsudon.”

Viktor ignored him with a haughty look and carried on eating, though now with more success. “What’s Katsudon?”

“It’s the meal you’re eating, Viktor.” Yuuri replied mildly.

“Yuuri favourite.” Yuuri mother said to Viktor with her usual benign smile, and Viktor grinned widely to hear her speak.

“It’s certainly one of my favourites now, too.” He replied to her.

Yuuri ignored them both and carried on eating expertly with two sticks held elegantly between his fingers.

When the meal was finished, Yuuri did not leave as Viktor expected, but invited Viktor out onto the veranda to sit with him.  
He poured them both a glass of sake, and watched the night grow darker and darker the further away it got from the house, the sounds of the road muffled and insects purring their music into the air. Makkachin, who had clearly grown tired of trying to invade the other man’s car, lay with his head on Viktor’s lap, dozing.  
Was it normal to feel so at ease in the company of a mob boss? But to sit beside Yuuri now, sharing a drink, while the night hissed it's silent music, Yuuri and Viktor were not killers or criminals.

Viktor decided not to think too much on it then.

“You were right.” Yuuri said eventually. “I did not want you to hurt him. I did not want to hurt him at all.”

Viktor raised an eyebrow. “Phichit seemed eager enough. Did you give him the job?”

Yuuri shook his head. “You misunderstand. He was simply another employee of mine, asked to play a part. If you had decided to obey the order, I would have stopped you.”

Silence. “But you were…right. If you had done it, you would have earned the serpent, but not my trust.”

Viktor sat thoughtfully, tilting his glass this way and that before asking. “Why did you hire me, Yuuri?”

Yuuri lifted his eyes to Viktor’s and followed the movement with his head.

“Because I can see the value in you.” He answered.

There was no physical reaction, but the void inside Viktor stilled, then glimmered. Yuuri went on.

“I have a large organisation, with many men and women who will commit any kind of crime for me. Physical violence is no barrier for them. But I do not have many who understand the purpose of punishment, or a word well-placed, when a gesture or a thought is much more effective lever than violence. I must keep a tight leash on these men.”

“And, because we are here, now, in my mother’s bathhouse, I will say something to you. I think I can trust you enough not repeat it. Although if you did, you would regret doing such a stupid thing.”

“I do not have many men who understand what my true wishes are. Who put my will before theirs. Yes, I am their lord, their owner or their employer. I have their love and loyalty. But men and women are base things; their love for me is a kind of selfishness, their loyalty is fanatical and license to indulge themselves in the darkness behind the eyes.”

“So you see, there are not many, who will, without the leash, will do as I truly wish, rather than what they wish.”

Viktor stared at the smaller man, who was sitting with one leg folded against his body, the other dangling over the edge, glass hanging between them. He knew Yuuri couldn’t be drunk, but nonetheless the words felt dangerously loose.

Or was it that Yuuri trusted him? Such an idea seemed ridiculous and more than a little hopeful.

The moment that followed left Viktor wondering if perhaps he was the one who was drunk.

Yuuri reached out a hand, closing the distance easily, and touched Viktor’s hair, pushing it slightly away from his eyes then letting it fall again.

“I was…unsure about your hair. But I like this.” Yuuri said simply, once again, pushing the hair, and letting it fall.

Viktor didn’t move. When Yuuri’s gaze slid down to meet his, something seemed to catch and Yuuri hand fell quickly away.  
Instead it moved to his pocket, from which Yuuri pulled out a small gold ring. Viktor could see that apart from being a simple gold band, it had a serpent engraved on it, with an emerald for the eye. He had seen a similar ring on Phichit’s finger, and a few of Yuuri’s other guards.

“I have decided I would like to employ you as a bodyguard, for my person. I think your skills are most suited for this purpose.” Yuuri said as he twirled the ring in his fingers. “But first I must know something.”

“You can ask me anything, Yuuri.” Viktor said instantly.

Yuuri didn’t look at him, but grin minutely. “Ah but will you answer? So here is the question: what is the real reason you left Yaakov Group?”

The void inside Viktor glimmered and yawned again. Here was a crux, a turning point. He could lie, he could recite the same story that everyone assumed they knew about Viktor Silver Nikiforov. That he had left because of his age, because he no longer enjoyed violence, because he had wanted a holiday.

But the truth…Yuuri had given him a truth. And Viktor found that since he had only ever been honest with Yuuri, he didn’t want to change that.

“I didn’t leave.” He said quietly holding his glass out for refill. When Yuuri obliged he went on. “I was chased, thrown out.”

“Because?” Yuuri asked, as if he had known this was the case.

“Because…” Viktor breathed in noisily. “Because they discovered I prefer men to women.”

There. He couldn’t be blunter than that.

He let the silence stretch out some before knocking back the rest of his drink and venturing forth again.

“Now you know. Does it mean I should leave?”

 _Have I lost your regard? Your trust? Do you want me to leave you, Katsuki Yuuri?_ The words screamed out in his head but he quieted them sternly.

Yuuri finished his glass too and laid the empty container on the floor beside him with a clink.

“No. You do not need to leave.” He said, as he got up. Without a backward look, Viktor heard him walk back into the house, and soon after heard the starting purr of an engine from the other side of the building.

Viktor looked at the space his had just occupied, and picked up the small golden circlet that had been left there.

It fit perfectly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok, so I included a lot of parallels with the show here. the bath house, the katsudon, the hair and the ring. I wasn't intending on using them up, but it just fit in here for now.  
> The ring significance will come in again later.  
> Is everyone enjoying this? Is it realistic enough?  
> are you hating the slow burn?  
> he he he  
> next episode: violence!


	8. An Itch; Part one

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: Violence.
> 
> This one is from Yuuri's POV, so we can get a little inside info there.  
> this `````````````` is to indicate a flash back. cos i dont know how to do italics on this platform.
> 
> Also, I am a little...intimidated? by the amount of attention this is getting. I honestly didn't expect this to be enjoyed by so many people. Um, its really gratifying. Thank you.  
> It also means I'll pay better attention to typos now....cos I wasn't. 
> 
>  
> 
> PS: dont be lazy, go look up the translations on google.
> 
> Any way on with the show!

Depending on the point of view, Viktor might have been dreaming, or having a nightmare.

His brain recalled pain extremely well, as a thick fist slammed into his jaw again and again. His head whipped to the side with the force, since he had long ago lost strength in his muscles to prevent it. The blood dripped lethargically onto his shirt, already streaked with blood as if he had been caught in the rain.

‘ _Vy bol'ny yebat'!” a voice said. “ili, mozhet byt', on lyubit bol._ ”

 _“Prosto sdelat' soobshcheniye yasno, a zatem udalit' yego.” Another_ , _raspier voice replied, sounding tired and disgusted._

_Viktor struggled to breathe, as another drop fell from the end of his nose and landed on his shirt sleeve. The fabric was creased and ugly under the restraints on his wrists. He slumped in the chair that was his prison, unsure if he would survive the night._

_Then Viktor saw that the restraints weren’t rope, but actually a snake. As he watched, the serpent uncoiled itself from his arm and pulled itself upright until it was green eye met with Viktor’s._

_“Are you beaten?” the snake asked him._

_Viktor didn’t reply. The snake swayed, its small black tongue darted out and back into its tiny barbed mouth._

_“Are you free?” the snake asked this time._

_Viktor found his breathing was normally now, the chair gone but the blood still present._

_“If you bite me, then I will be free_. _” Dream-Viktor told it._

_The snake lunged and Viktor woke._

-*-

 

Yuuri listened with half an ear to Christophe’s chatter. The Swiss man was sitting across from his him, on the other side of his lawyer’s desk, with a tablet on his knee, rattling off the latest gleanings of information seeded from the underworld.

The underworld in which they swam.

Christophe might be an odd sort of person, but he suited Yuuri’s purposes. Christophe was the type of man who, while had absolutely no problem with the blurring of moral lines and being a party to any kind of crime, hate actual physical violence. He was more than happy to let others take part, however, as long as he didn’t have to be around for it. Yuuri had once seen him faint after pricking himself with a letter opener.

No, it was Christophe’s mind that made him an asset. He was so involved with his technology that he was half a digital creature himself. Yuuri sometimes even imagined the twinkling of small, LED lights around him, or the glint of red in his eyes. Christophe was the spider in the center of a web of digital information. He had direct informants and indirect resources too; the man could read a hundred newspaper articles, all written about the mundane every day, and would somehow be able to come to Yuuri and warn him of a shipment that would go awry very soon, or encourage him to check on a certain weapons warehouse. And he would be right each time. He wasn’t pleasant to deal with but the material he gave was flawless.

He was told this was called being an ‘idiot savant.’

Although, there were times when Yuuri thought ‘idiot’ worked just as well.

“And you see, I found him because he was driving the Lamborghini Aventador S, and I thought to myself ‘Now Christophe, isn’t that model only on the floor next winter?’ so of course, I had to look closer. And I found out that yes, in fact, the Aventador was being released early, but only to five specialty customers on order, which is completely unfair if you ask me, but that’s elitism for you…”

And so on it went. Christophe’s information was accurate, but he treated every meeting like it was an episode of CSI, as if it were essential to spell out every thought that rattled through his head. Yuuri knew remotely that this was merely an aspect of his character, perhaps even a symptom of the very condition that made him so useful, but it made Yuuri want to rub his face and snap at the man.

So instead he smoked a cigar.

Yuuri didn’t actually like cigars. They were a habit. No, a tool. An act.

 _“Never touch your face, Yuuri. There is no reason for an employee to see you touch your face anywhere. Not for mirth, not for annoyance, not for frustration. For them to see_ that, _would mean that you are human, like them, and thus are weak, like them.”_  
_“But Otosan, my glasses…”_ seven-year-old _Yuuri said to his father, pushing them up his nose._  
_Katsuki Toshiya took the glasses off his face, dropped them to the floor and stepped on them hard. The crunch of shattered glass was a curious sound in the bathhouse._  
_“Today you will learn to wear contact lenses.”_

But Yuuri found that he hadn’t quite been able to shake the habit, even after he had finally learned to insert contacts painlessly. His hand had still came up to touch his face now and then.

His father saw and would pinch his neck.

So Yuuri found other things to do with his hands. He mimicked how his father rested them in his pockets when at ease, to let his arms rest quietly at his sides or cross over his chest. On days when it was harder, when his father pushed him, or he found himself being anxious, he taught himself tricks with coins. Soon, he learned to flip the coins from knuckle to knuckle. When his father smiled approvingly at the act, and his colleagues commented on how clever it was, Yuuri hid his relief behind a stoic expression. This made his father’s grin even wider.

So now he played with his coin, ever available in his waistcoat pocket, its facets blank silver as the emblems had long since been worn away. And when that didn’t seem appropriate, he smoked a cigar. It had galled him at first, and burned his throat, but he worked at it, imitating the slow exhalations of his father so that the smoke billowed and dissipated in the air. Every night, he tried to wash the smell out of his hair, and scrub it from his fingernails.

“Chris.” Yuuri interrupted his chief technician’s machine gun volley of words. “I believe my first question was about Viktor Nikiforov.”

Christophe’s eyes widened and blinked. “Oh yes! I apologize, I had just confirmed this other information, and its rather important, and considering the meeting you have with the Amery tomorrow…”

“Christophe.” Yuuri interrupted again, leaking some impatience into his voice and Christophe halted.

“Ah yes. Well, yes, it seems that he is telling the truth.” Christophe stuttered a little.

Not that Yuuri had expected Viktor to be lying. But he was the serpent’s head and not to follow up on information was stupid.

“Was it difficult to confirm?” Yuuri asked, waving the half-burned cigar languidly and watching the thin tendril of smoke rise from it.

“As a matter of fact, it was unusually challenging, even for me. I had to dig a little. It seems the Russians certainly don’t want anyone knowing their once prizefighter is  
homosexual.”

“Hmm.” Yuuri hummed. It made sense, in a way. What didn’t make sense was that they found out. Viktor didn’t seem the type to slip up on a secret like that. And after over a decade within their ranks, it seemed unlikely he would have come out willingly.

A puzzle, was Viktor Nikiforov.

As of yet, Viktor had yet to lie to him, but Yuuri still felt a certain itch when it came to the man. His motivations were unfamiliar. And yet, his mother liked the grey man. And looked after his dog. And let him cook.

An itch.

And when Yuuri had found him relaxed in the bath, skin pale and sheened with sweat, his new hair damp, Yuuri felt the itch again.

And that was strange. Everything about Viktor at this point was strange.

He had proved himself loyal, by giving him his braid. He wondered if Viktor even understood the significance of that within Japanese culture. And though Yuuri suspected he didn’t, it didn’t change the fact that it had been a crucially significant act for Viktor, and now Yuuri couldn’t see his shortened hair without remembering that moment.

Viktor bare before his eyes.

 _“I will do anything for you Yuuri._ ”

No, he hadn’t actually said that. But his eyes had cried it aloud. Yuuri recognized it because it was an oath he was very familiar with. One wasn’t a part of the Katsuki clan without being willing to separate themselves from everything in favor of Katsuki Yuuri and his will.

But Viktor had offered it, without pretense, without zeal or fear or hunger. Only the simplicity of the words being absolute truth.

Christophe was still chattering and Yuuri had been following every word even while his mind was elsewhere. There was a small knock at his door and he called for them to enter.

Phichit came in and stopped at Yuuri’s desk with a short bow. To Christophe, he only offered a disdainful glance.

“It’s time. The cars are ready.” Pichit said simply.

“That is my cue to g,.” Christophe said, getting up and bowing as well. “Until you next summon me, Bosu.”

Yuuri only nodded to him as he scuttled away. Pichit was already there with his coat.

 

“ _Look at him, Yuuri, and_ memorise _him. He will be your dog from now on.” Toshiya had said to a ten-year old Yuuri_ , _when a bedraggled younger boy had been pushed at his feet._

_“Why?” Yuuri asked, but staring at the youth, who was barely more than bones with bruises standing out horribly against his pale skin._

_“Everyone needs a pet. We will teach this one to love you, and then teach him to bite.”_

 

Whatever his father had done to Phichit, he had ended up with more a dog that bit. Phichit was sometimes content to be at Yuuri’s side, play nice with others. But sometimes, he frothed.

He said nothing as he led the way out to the atrium. Both Viktor and Yuuko waiting for him there.

While Yuuko dressed in a dusty black, her arms wrapped in black bandages and her guns strapped almost invisibly to her back, Viktor was a sketch is grey charcoal. He never wore black. Yuuri suspected he was doing it to prove a point. Or perhaps to simply annoy Phichit. Or perhaps, he simply liked how he looked in colours that were all shades of grey and silver.

He looked good in them.

Yuuri walked past them without a word and they followed in his undertow. He had specifically chosen these three today, and it felt both satisfying and strange to have Viktor join.

He was curious to finally see the man in a situation where his skills were required most.

When you by a new car, you want to see what it can do, not so?

“How are the triplets?” Yuuri directed at Yuuko as they made their way to garage.

Yuuko had a typically motherly look on her face. “They turn seven next week.”

“Already?” Yuuri answered, genuinely surprised at the passing of time. “I suppose I should send them gifts.” He added disinterestedly, though he did so every year anyway, no matter where he was at the time.

“Axel and Lutz want new phones. Loop wants nun-chucks.”

Yuuri raised an eyebrow and Yuuko looked smug. “Wants to be like her mama.”

Yuuko was as cute as they came: large brown eyes, an adorable smile and small physique. It didn’t stop her from being a deadly shot.

“I’ll see.” Yuuri replied, though he knew he would be sending those gifts and more. Yuuko was a dear childhood friend, not just an employee, as was her husband. And he had seen the triplets the day they were born. Yuuri didn’t have a lot of space for sentiment in his life, but he made some room for them.

“You know Viktor.” Yuuri stated as they rounded the corner to where the cars waited, and made a direct line for the black Chevy impala. They wouldn’t need a large car today, just a flashy one.

He saw Yuuko share a sardonic look with Viktor, who grinned back. “Unfortunately.”

“Yuuko, I’m wounded.” Viktor retorted mockingly. “You can’t still be bitter?”

“I’ll be bitter until I stand on your head in our next match.” Yuuko responded though it was equal parts seriousness and joking.

Yuuri smirked inwardly. None of his men or women had yet to beat Viktor in a match. It was quite impressive. There were several betting pools going; who could last the longest against him, who could touch the new hair, and of course, who would finally be the one to lay him flat against the practice mats. In their world, it was the best kind of social grease.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so guys, I did a little illustration, but i can't upload it here.  
> Its of the Katsuki emblem, if anyone is interested. I'm just gonna put it on my tumblr, if anyone wants to see.
> 
> http://micaelavdb.tumblr.com/post/156476444593/the-symbol-of-the-katsuki-clan-the-serpent-that


	9. An Itch: part 2.

Phichit took his place behind the wheel and Yuuri slid into the front seat with barely a glance at the rest of them. It was work hours now. The night stretched out ahead of them,

Hasetsu’s lights were glinting, the spread out facets of jewels.

The road they eventually pulled onto was another kind of glittering mess; a strip of pseudo strip clubs, dance clubs and restaurants with discreet upstairs rooms for certain paying customers. It seemed fitting that these people, whose storefronts and windows were dun and drab by day, lit up like psychedelic, over the top fireflies at night.

Those who worked in shadows hiding in the gaudy displays of light.

But these were the people who made his money, and that was the reason they were there tonight. Pichit stopped the car opposite a small tea house, its red lanterns spilling their glow on the dirty street below, and Yuuri climbed, followed by Viktor and Yuuko. While Pichit parked the car elsewhere, Yuuri made his way inside so long.

The interior was smoky, and conversation hummed. There were a few booths, with patrons sharing tea between themselves, heads either too close to each other, or lolling against the headrests. There was the definite feeling that people were actively not looking at them as they passed. In so doing, if anyone asked, they would be able to answer, ‘but officer, I saw nothing and no one.’

The doorman at the other end of the room stepped aside with a bow and Yuuri climbed the narrow staircase to the second floor.

This was another kind of scene. More people, more flesh, less talk and more murmur. The décor was plush and decadent, too much silk and padding. Again, no one looked their way, but now there was a sense of not wanting to be seen in return. Yuuri ignored the way the incense tickled his nose and pushed his way through the beaded curtain that led him to his destination.

He led them into a room that was so unlike its predecessors it seemed like they had stepped into another building entirely. It was chaste, quiet and studious. One wall held volumes of books, and the décor was far more along the lines of an old-fashioned western with its abundance of wood and baize carpeting. A small girl stood in its center.

She bowed and indicated a smaller, grey door at the rear of the room. Yuuri gestured with his left hand, and Yuuko stepped forward, quickly closing the distance and opening the door. Viktor came to stand just at his shoulder and Yuuri side-glanced at the Russian. His face was blank, expressionless and eyes sharp, all trace of his usual lighter demeanor gone.

“It’s good,” Yuuko called out to them and Yuuri followed her into the room.

Two men were laying on the floor, one unconscious, one clearly terrified, and flinched noticeably when he saw Yuuri, recognition plain. He began to rattle off in Japanese, but was quickly shut up with a high heeled kick to the head. Minako, who had delivered the kick, appeared annoyed and bored.

“So glad you didn’t start without me this time.” Yuuri said, finding his coin in his pocket and fingers already starting their little dance. The conscious man’s eyes watched it like it was the foreboding of doom, which in this case, it mostly was.

“I almost did. This one won’t stop talking.” The tall woman replied peevishly. Minako was the owner of the teahouse, and also one of Yuuri's longest-standing employees.

“Anything useful so far?”

Minako gave a long-suffering sigh. “No. I don’t think he knows anything really, he was with his friend at the time, so I bought them both. Do you want me to…?” she asked, flicking her fingers in a gesture that was curiously small but somehow managed to indicate exactly what she meant because the man began to whimper.

Yuuri shook his head once. “No, I’ll keep him for now. Thank you.” He told her. She nodded and looked beside him, where Phichit was now in attendance and standing next to Viktor.

“Hello?” she perked up on seeing Viktor. “New blood? And so pretty.” She said with a sly little smile.

Yuuri shot her a sharp look. “This is Viktor Nikiforov. He has joined the Katsuki name.”

Minako was looking at the tall grey man appreciatively and Yuuri shifted, catching the coin between forefinger and thumb.

“I’ll see you about the tea shipment on the way out.” He said by way of dismissal. Her steps slowed ever so slightly as she passed Viktor.

It was Yuuri’s personal pleasure that Viktor returned her look with one of complete blankness.

When the door snicked shut Yuuri sighed and starting the coin dancing again. He made a slow walk up the trembling man, speaking to his guardsmen as he did so. “One of you, wake the one on the floor.” Crouching down, he made his face blank as he met the watery eyes.

“Your name.” he said in Japanese.

Flood-gates opened and the man became an unattractive mess of tears, snot and nonsensical proclamations of his innocence, half thought declarations of loyalty to the  
Katsuki clan and Yuuri managed about ten seconds before he sighed and stood again.

“Hurry up.” He snapped at Phichit, who had fetched a bucket of cold water and was about to throw it over the sleeping man’s head. When he had spluttered and coughed and woken with a curse, Phichit yanked his collar in a fist and slapped him hard, shutting him up and forcing him to take another look at his surroundings. Unlike his partner, his eyes became narrowed and while Yuuri knew they held fear, there was also caution, which showed that he was obviously the grown up in this little game.

“ _You see me?_ ” Yuuri asked in Japanese.

The man didn’t answer but at a jerk from Phichit, he nodded quickly.

He switched to English “Good, so you know who I am. I will save myself time and irritation and tell you why you’re here. You and your friend,” Yuuri gestured to said friend who shivered and looked away, “were found where you shouldn’t have been. Specifically, at the harbor where my personal ships were being unloaded. No guns, no cameras, just yourselves and your eyes. Now, can you tell me why that is?”

Yuuri flipped the coin from his pinkie to his thumb and started the circuit again. The man’s eyes darted from it to Yuuri’s face.

“We were just standing there. I work in the harbor, he is my friend and I had worked late. It was nothing, I swear it.”

Yuuri titled his head. “You work there.”

The man nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, I run the cranes and sometimes I work overtime unpacking the containers. My friend came to keep me company. We stepped outside for a smoke. That is all I swear, Katsuki.”

Yuuri watched him as he spoke, eyes darting left and right, resting on him only to bounce away again.

“Viktor.” Yuuri said. In moments, Viktor’s lean form had come to mimic his position, facing the man and raised an eyebrow quizzically at Yuuri.

“He says he was an innocent bystander. He says they were alone.” Yuuri said in a bored way.

Viktor nodded and turned his icy attention to the man on the floor in front of them.

“Were you alone?” Viktor said in a low voice, his accent coloring the words and making them seem colder.

The man blinked at him, frowning. “Who are you?”

In less than a second Viktor had slipped a knife from his sleeve and slashed it across the man’s cheek, his expression never changing. The man cried out in surprise and the blood flowed freely down his face in a ghastly smile, staining his collar.

“Were you alone?” Viktor repeated, voice the same.

The man gasped. “Yes! Yes, I said it was so!”

Viktor watched him for another moment, and then his hand whipped out and the man had another red smile on his other cheek. Yuuri barely saw the movement, but the knife that hung loosely now from Viktor’s hand had blood dripping from its point.

“Why were you there?” Viktor asked. The man was staring wide-eyed at the blade, then fearfully at victors face as he hyperventilated.

“I work there!” was the man’s desperate answer.

Whip, glint, slash, and cry.

This time, there was a line just under his left eye, and the skin twitched.

“Ah…ah…” he panted and started speaking in Japanese. _“Please, please, Katsuki Yuuri…_ ”

This time Viktor made a slow line down the man’s nose, and his face was now a stunning artwork in red and sweat. “Speak English. I know you can.”

The man wept. “I was just there.” He stared appealingly at Viktor. “I promise you.”

Viktor watched him impassively for a moment longer before turning to Yuuri.

“He lies.”

Ignoring the man’s protestations, they both stood and Yuuri clenched his hand to prevent himself from rubbing his face, pushing glasses that weren’t there. Phichit came close to them, scowling that he hadn’t been included.

“He has information, and has been paid enough to stick to his lies,” Yuuri said, fingering his coin again.

“ _I could have told you that,_ ” Phichit growled in Japanese. Yuuri turned a barely concealed glare on him.

“Speak English. Viktor bears the serpent and the ring. Stop being a petulant, childish idiot.” Yuuri said back in rapid Japanese and Phichit eyes widened. Yuuri was beyond tired of his grouching about the Russian.

But then, Viktor spoke up. “Phichit, I am not dressed for getting messy today. Would you mind taking the lead?”

Phichit was twice speechless, but his expression morphed quickly when he saw Yuuri still shooting a look at him that said ‘ _Behave, or else_.’

He managed to create an aloof expression when he turned to Viktor and said, “Too pretty to get dirty, Russian? Fine, I’ll pick up the slack.”

“I’ll ask the questions.” Viktor replied amenably.

Yuuri nodded to them both and let them get on with it. He and Yuuko went back into the office, leaving the tremulous pleadings behind them.

Yuuko settled herself on an available chair. Yuuri was content to stare sightlessly at the bookcase next to Minako’s desk. He pocketed his coin when he saw she had already cut a cigar for him and held it out. He took it without hesitation, leaning towards her so she could hold the lighter close.

“Your new man is lovely, Yuuri.” Minako purred.

“Isn’t he just?” Yuuko agreed with a smile of her own. “You should see him with his shirt off, all covered in sweat.”

“I thought you were married.” Minako laughed, closing the lighter with a snap.

“Happily. But there is only so much blindness one can have when right up close. We spar often.”

“More often than necessary I’m sure,” Minako replied.

“Well, he has asked me to teach him how to use the katana. Should I say no? And when he decides to strip, must I tell him to stop?”

The women tittered together and Yuuri continued keeping his back to them, knowing he had very little to add to the conversation. He blew a cloud of smoke at the books, wondering if the paper would retain the smell.

“Is he available? Yuuri, once the workday ends?” Minako directed to him.

“You will have to ask him. I don’t dictate his life.”

 _Good luck to you_ , he thought to himself. But he wasn’t about to step in and stop her from whatever embarrassing conversation she might walk into.

“So you wouldn’t mind if…?” Minako trailed off suggestively and Yuuko giggled.

Yuuri declined to answer.

A few minutes later, the far door opened and Viktor stepped through, sans his jacket and with a little red on the left cuff.

“It appears he wasn’t an innocent bystander.” Viktor said, speaking directly to Yuuri.

“Imagine my surprise.” Yuuri replied.

“He says he doesn’t have a name, but the person on the phone sounded European.”

“Amery?”

“Hmm,” Viktor replied thoughtfully. “Or maybe O’Donnell? He has been sniffing around your exports lately.”

Yuuko snorted. “O’Donnell hates getting his hands dirty, he prefers white collar.”

Viktor glanced at her. “Perhaps he is branching out. It’s not like Amery to send locals in his stead; he’s an Irish snob.”

“What is ‘snob’?” Yuuko asked, wrinkling her brows together but Yuuri stepped in before Viktor could reply.

“What does Phichit say?” He said, pulling on the cigar again. If O’Donnell was branching out, why on earth did he think he could start lingering around Katsuki property?

“He is …distracted at present. But he got a phone number.”

“Yuuko.” Yuuri voiced. Immediately, she pulled her phone from some hidden pocket and tossed it to Viktor, who typed quickly before tossing it back.

“Find out whose it is, find me a name, and report before sunrise.” Yuuri instructed. Yuuko would track down the origin of their number, and follow that lead to its end. He turned back to Viktor.

“Finish up.” He said as Yuuko left the room.

Viktor nodded. “And the one who keeps weeping?” he asked with barely disguised scorn, and the expression looked amusing on his face, making Yuuri grin ever so slightly.

“I suppose he can go. Make sure he is limping back to his master.” Yuuri said with a dismissive wave. Messages were often best heard when accompanied by hot breath and a fearful face.

Viktor nodded and was about to return within when Yuuri caught his eye, and that simple contact halted the Silver man, who was now watching him attentively.

Viktor always seemed to hear the words that weren’t spoken.

“Tell Phichit to stop playing. I have other places to be.” Yuuri said simply. He wasn’t sure why he needed Viktor’s absolute attention just then, or if he needed it at all. Perhaps he simply wanted to know if he could have it.

Viktor blinked and left. Yuuri turned away again, deciding to stub the cigar out in a huge malachite ashtray on Minako’s desk. He readjusted his coat and sat down in the plush chair across from her, while she leveled a curious look at him.

“Would you like some tea, Katsuki Yuuri?” she said. She sounded like her tea house looked; all low murmur, musk and money.

“No thank you.” He replied meeting her eyes. Minako had worked with his father when he’d been alive, but Yuuri had made her a much more important and integral part of his web. He was unconcerned about things like gender and could recognize that after decades of being involved in the criminal world of Japan, having Minako as a respected partner was far better than trying to keep her under his thumb. And she, in turn, provided services like information, and catching all the little rumors, the ones that sounded like nothing, the people who were like rats in the gutters but still had eyes to see. She was like Christophe in a way, except that he had seen her put a chopstick through someone’s eye once.

And besides, she preferred to run her brothel and keep her little islands of power, as long as it remained lucrative.

“You always say no. And I make such fine teas, the best in Japan, imported from all over the world.” She went on, smiling like she was actually offering him tea.

“I do not drink tea.” He replied in her own code, though it wasn’t strictly necessary.

“You mean you have never indulged in tea. Perhaps if you tried one of mine you would change your mind. I can accommodate many tastes…” she leaned forward and Yuuri’s patience, thin as ever, snapped.

“Minako, I do not want anything from you other than what services you already provide. Do not assume that simply because I don’t drink your tea, that you need to educate me in any way.” Yuuri said all this with a mild face, but his tone was razor-edged. Minako immediately leaned back, though she showed no outward sign that she had been chastised.

“Of course, you are not thirsty. I only want to be a good host.” She covered, her smile slipping only slightly.

  
Yuuri looked away from her, loosely linking his fingers together. “Your next shipment of ‘tea’ is on the freighter due next week.”

 She brightened. “Ah, that is good news. You always bring such quality product, and it arrives with no bruising at all.”

“Keep that in mind.”

The deal was that Minako relied on him to bring in the new flesh; sex workers. But with the unique exception that his people made sure they arrived in good health, and that Minako made sure they stayed that way. He hated the sight of prostitutes, starved and hooked, used until they weighed less than the clothes they wore and then vanished by people just like him. So he allowed his name to be associated with Minako’s tea house on the condition that her product was always well-cared for. This meant being clean, being fed, being kept off drugs and being allowed to buy their freedom after a period of seven years, if they so wished.

It was because of this symbiotic relationship that Minako’s girls and boys were now one of the most sought-after and exclusive flesh in Japan, and that she had three other tea houses in different cities. It also meant that he was paid for his protection with twenty percent of the earnings.

It worked for all parties concerned.

In light of being reminded, Minako fixed him with an almost indulgent gaze. “You are most certainly not like your father.”  
Yuuri ignored her.

The small door opened and Viktor came out, his jacket over one arm and arguing.

“You’ve done enough. Any more and he’ll pass out.” He was saying

“And so? He only has to be able to talk.” Phichit surly voice replied from within.

“I doubt that anyone will want to have him in their car in his state. He stinks.” Viktor said. “Come on, you need a shower.”

“Are you always so fussy about being clean, Russian?” Phichit said as he followed Viktor out the door, looking far more painted than Viktor.

“Perhaps you are not fussy enough. When is the last time you cleaned under your nails?” Viktor replied and closed the door behind them. Sending an apologetic glance to Minako he said “I apologize, it’s a mess in there. The small one got enthusiastic.”

Phichit sent him a vicious glance and put his hands on his hips, smearing blood on the black cotton. Minako smirked and offered him a half-lidded look.

“Please, don’t be concerned. That’s what the room is for. I’ll send Toshiro to clean up.”

“How lucky for us, that you don’t mind.”

“I never mind when Katsuki Yuuri’s children come to play.” She replied and raised an eyebrow at Phichit, “And also, I am very familiar with the mess this one makes.”

Yuuri stood and nodded to her. “Thank you, Minako. I will see you soon.”

“I was hoping to offer your new man some tea?” she added quickly eyes on Viktor, but before Viktor could reply Yuuri stepped in.

“ _I said no, Minako_.” And this time, his face was not blank. This time, Minako’s smile fell away completely.

“Y-yes. Apologies.” She said with downcast eyes. Minako may have been around longer, may have been his senior for many years, but Yuuri had been raised knowing that with a word, he could determine the time of someone’s death. “Please let, Hiro, show you out.”

They were led out by a small girl, although she may have been a woman under the geisha mask she wore. The trip back was quiet.

And the itch had returned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm part irish. I like the idea of an irish mob trying to foothold in completely the wrong place.


	10. Midnight Snack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Its a bit short, but the next chapter is very different so I wanted to put this on its own.
> 
> Still Yuuri POV

It was exactly 2:41 AM when Yuuko came back, looking scuffled and annoyed but otherwise fine.

It _had_ been the O’Donnell’s. Yuuri heard her report, which wasn’t very much more than that, and sent her off soon after. She stayed on the property; Yuuri had long since given her small family their own house to the east side of the manor.

He had slept a few hours before waking up at around 2 AM, so she had found him awake. Only those who wore the ring were allowed to disturb him in this way, and he had been expecting her in any case.

Sleep was elusive. So, still wearing most of his suit, he left his rooms in favor of wandering through the corridors of the Katsuki manor, everything so familiar to him he barely saw it. In theory, he knew it was an expensive house, filled with prizes and treasures of many kinds, but it was to him as water is to a fish; he didn’t think on it, he simply swam through it.

His feet had found the kitchen, since his stomach was somewhat peckish. It wasn’t a common indulgence, but there were times when he liked to find himself something to snack on, sometimes fruit, sometimes leftovers, sometimes whatever the fairies had stocked the pantry full of. In the small hours, in his own home, he was allowed such things.

Pushing the glasses up the bridge of his nose, he pulled open one of the fridges and gazed inside, sifting through its contents. They were always stocked since he housed so many of his more valuable employees. It was a thing his father had instigated; keep them housed, clothed and fed, and you win their loyalty over and over.

Katsuki had never seen a reason not to carry on the tradition, though his rooms were set far apart from the general living quarters. The kitchen, however, was The Kitchen. And though he had one of his own, he still gravitated to this one, an odd sort of beating heart in the Katsuki manor.

Eventually, he pulled out some ham slices, cheese, and condiments, thinking a sandwich would be a good idea for an early breakfast. As he closed the door, he heard footsteps to his left and stilled.

Viktor’s face was as surprised as Yuuri felt, as he stopped half in and out of the doorway.

They blinked at each other before realizing they were staring.

“Yuuri, I see you are a night owl as well,” Viktor said first, cutting into the silence and pushing his hair back from his face.

Ah yes, that was another thing. Viktor, in spite of _knowing_ that it would be considered disrespectful, called him by his first name. At first, Yuuri suspected it was his Russian habit. But as time went on, he noticed Viktor only did it when it was just the two of them alone, never in company. In front of others, he was Katsuki Yuuri. So the man _did_ know. And Yuuri knew that he knew.

And chose not to correct him.

And so, the itch.

Yuuri regained himself with barely a moments pause. “I sleep little. Are you hungry too?”

Viktor came further into the large kitchen, and leaned against the marble island. He was wearing loose cotton pajamas and Yuuri was reminded of the evening they had eaten together, when neither of them had seemed to be anything other than two men, who could enjoy food and _sake_. The man didn’t look like Viktor Silver then, just Viktor, sleep-tousled from his bed, bare feet against the tile.

Yuuri looked away and began to construct his sandwich.

“I’ve heard it’s not healthy to eat so late at night,” Viktor spoke through Yuuri’s disquieting thoughts.

“And yet, here I stand a picture of health,” Yuuri replied casually. “Unless you would like one too, I will put this away?” Yuuri said, looking over his shoulder in question.

Viktor smiled and looked as if he had caught onto some words before they escaped, then shook his head. “It seems wrong, for a king to make a meal for his servants.”

Yuuri sighed and turned back to his work. “You are not my servant. I pay you. How else do you buy your bizarre wardrobe?”

He felt Viktor come stand beside him. “It was a joke, your majesty. Here let me help.” Viktor glanced over his ingredients. “Oh well, if we’re going to eat, then we must eat properly."

Viktor opened the fridge again and after a moment came back bearing a jar of pickles and a tomato. Yuuri sneered.

“Is this a Russian thing? To overload one's meal?”

Viktor tutted. “Do you even know what you are criticising? Fine, I’ll make mine with these things, and you may try it and if you change your mind, I win.”

Yuuri shook his head. “Win what?”

“I think on it when I’ve won,” Viktor replied with a shrug.

After making their separate sandwiches they both settled beside one another at the island and Viktor wasted no time starting on his food. Yuuri smiled slightly.

“I thought you weren’t supposed to eat at night.” He quipped. “Clearly, your hunger woke you.”

“If I am to sin, then I will not do so in half measures,” Viktor replied holding a hand over his full mouth. “And I often don’t sleep well. I am too used to Makkachin sharing my bed, and it is lonely without him.”

As Yuuri had never had a pet, he said nothing and took a bite of his own sandwich. His hunger was a small thing and he didn’t need to rush.

When Viktor cut a small triangle from his second half and handed it to him with an expectant look, Yuuri was unmoved.

“I didn’t agree to your bet.” He said, ignoring the proffered piece.

“Ah, so you didn’t. So think of it as a new experience to be had.” Viktor said with a sly grin. Yuuri’s eyes caught on that smile, which was so unlike anything he had seen on  
Viktor’s face so far, it stood out. It changed his face entirely.

“Have you decided the terms?” Yuuri asked.

“Not yet.”

“When you decide them, I will try it.”

Viktor seemed to find that acceptable and the piece back down on the plate temporarily.

“You did well today,” Yuuri said, after a moment they both spent eating. “You live up to expectations.”

“Hmm.” Viktor replied simply, the praise rolling off him like so much water. Curious.

“I cannot truly apologize for Phichit’sbehaviorr but I will acknowledge that he is being something of an annoyance.”

Viktor waved a dismissive hand, indicating exactly how much he cared about Pichit’s attitude. The ring glinted.

“Tomorrow you will come with me to O’Donnell.” Yuuri went on, picking at his bread. “Yuuko came back with confirmation of your suspicion.”

Viktor perked up. “Good. One of his gorillas made a rather annoying remark last time we met and I wanted to see him again.”

“A remark?”

“He said my suits looked cheap.” Viktor said, wiping at the corner of his mouth and levelling an unimpressed look at Yuuri. “They are not.”

Yuuri smirked. “So I was right about how you spend your pay cheque.”

“Custom suits don’t come for nothing. And if I am going to be joining you on more messy expeditions, I will be spending even more.”

“The Katsuki manor can easily provide you with a suit.” Yuuri pointed out.

“A uniform you mean.” Viktor replied with a distasteful sneer. “If you do not mind it, I prefer my own personal style.”

“I do not mind it.” Yuuri confirmed.

Viktor's heart beat quick glance at him seemed out of place then, but the Russian man looked down, making his hair hide his eyes then, reminding Yuuri of how it felt under his hand.

“I think perhaps Phichit does.” Viktor joked.

“That’s because he thinks you are my favourite.” Yuuri said with a heavy sigh.

Viktor turned back to him, face more intense now. “Very well, those are my terms. If you like the sandwich, then I can ask a question. If you don’t, you can ask anything you want of me.”

Yuuri had to laugh, and it came out small and soft and unfamiliar. He hadn’t genuinely laughed in…he didn’t know how long.

“Those terms are terrible. Do you not actually know how to gamble?” Yuuri asked, smiling at the silver man and earning a smile in return.

“In fact, I do not. I don’t gamble. But those are my terms here. Do you accept them?”

Yuuri couldn’t let it go. “Firstly, I can lie about whether or not I enjoy the sandwich for my own benefit, and secondly, I can already ask of you whatever I please, not so? How are  
these opposing terms?”

Viktor continued to smile. “The purpose is to give you something you want, or something I want. I want a question. And since the only thing I knew that you want is to have my unwavering compliance that is what I offered you.”

Yuuri stared at him, still aghast at his wording but eventually gave in. It was too early in the morning to care too much about something so ridiculous. He reached over and took the remaining piece of Victor’s creation, and put it into his mouth.

He had to admit to himself, it was good.

Viktor leaned closer to watch his eyes and told him quietly, “Remember, I can tell if you’re lying.”

Yuuri chewed longer than necessary, deciding on his answer. Eventually he swallowed and allowed himself to connect with Viktor’s stare. He blinked slowly.

“It was good.”

Viktor grinned triumphantly. “I am almost tempted to say that the simple confession is enough of a victory.”

Yuuri shook his head and looked down at the marble counter top, seeing patterns in the milky swirls.

“But you still have a question.” He said.

He said it knowing that he was letting himself be a little bit vulnerable. Letting himself be subject to a question that he knew he didn’t necessarily need to answer, but that Viktor would see his reaction either way. Knowing that Viktor would see the truth behind whatever he said.

Pushing his glasses up his nose, why could this man see so much in so little? Yuuri told himself he didn’t need to fear that Viktor would see more than others did. That it was normal to trust him. Even though he knew it wasn’t.

Because he trusted almost no other human in that way.

“So I do.” Viktor said happily. “And so; who is Phichit?”

Yuuri looked at Viktor sharply. “Why this question?”

Viktor met his look squarely, without fear. “Because he is insane, and I want to know how that is.”

Yuuri blinked at the man. He couldn’t deny the truth; Phichit was in fact, mad.

“I think you know why he is the way he is.” Viktor added.

Viktor was leaning his face on one hand, relaxed and waiting. Abruptly, Yuuri was angry.

“Why do you think you can ask me such a question?” Yuuri told him harshly. “Who are you? You are only a clever tool for my hand. How dare you think you can ask me whatever  
you want legitimately?”

The reaction was immediate and through Yuuri’s now narrowed eyes he saw Viktor retreat. Not physically, but in every other way. He straightened his back, formalised his posture and smoothed his face. The ever lingering smile was gone and his eyes half closed. It was not fear, as anyone else might have reacted to a scolding from Yuuri, but disassociation.

“My apologies, Katsuki Yuuri.” Viktor said in a flat tone.

Yuuri saw two things: disappointment, which he knew well, and…hurt, which he didn’t. The intangible connection between them up until now was gone when Viktor looked away and let his hair swing over his eyes.

Now Yuuri was even angrier.

He got up from the island and went to set his plate down at the sink with a soft ‘chink’, controlling his breathing and feeling the bizarre mixture of shame and anger swirling in his chest. Instead of leaving as he planned, he huffed.

“I’m told that you asked Yuuko to teach you the katana.” He said the cabinet in front of his face. It wasn’t quite a lie.

After a brief pause, he got a soft answer.

“Yes. She has been teaching me when she has the time.” Viktor voice was low and careful.

Yuuri nodded at the sink. “The next time you find yourself unable to sleep, go to the training room. I am there usually from three. I will teach you katana, and you will teach me dance fighting.”

Another pause, and then a response that had some humour leaked back into it. “Ah, you mean capoeira.”

“Yes. Agreed?” Yuuri replied curtly.

A soft laugh. “Agreed.”

Yuuri didn’t respond, still at odds with himself and his reactions. His feet shifted and started a retreat to the door way when Viktor spoke up again.

“By the way, the glasses look good on you, Yuuri.”

Yuuri turned, shock plain on his face. In the entire time he had been speaking with the man, he hadn’t once remember his glasses were on. Viktor had the same half-smile, but  
this was ever so slightly shy now.

Yuuri left.


	11. Moments; Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Montage time!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first half of this will be from Viktor's POV.

**_Thursday_**  
\-------------------------------

  
Viktor pushed the doors to the training room open to find Yuuri already there, going through a series of movements, a long wooden katana in hand.  
It had been several days since their encounter in the kitchen. In between had been the O’Donnell’s, a trip to the manufacturing district, and an unpleasant altercation with a previous partner that Viktor had to resolve.

And while Viktor had employed his blades, Yuuri had watched impassively, coin in hand, never speaking more than he needed to. Viktor remained unsure about what exactly happened that night, but he had his job to do and so he did it.

Even if he couldn’t get the image of Yuuri wearing glasses from his mind.

It made the man look so much younger, so completely different as to be someone else. And for a short time, he had been. Only Yuuri.

But he had to shake those thoughts from his head, because he could recognize within himself the beginnings of attraction. And of all people to be infatuated with, choosing Yuuri was like a moth choosing the fire. It was a special kind of stupidity, to long after someone like the Katsuki Serpent.

He reminded himself that he was clever and skilled, that he was hired for an expressed purpose and his value was only worth anything if he performed well. As Yuuri had made clear, he was merely a tool for the hand he admired. He should never have let his inner-self contemplate more.

So he didn’t let his eyes linger on the slender form already practicing in the center of the room. He went to fetch his own practice katana and took his place.

Yuuri finished off a staccato movement before bringing his feet back together and deigning to look at Viktor, who met his eyes with a carefully bland look.

“Forget what you have been doing with Yuuko.” Yuuri said to him. “We will learn Tenshin Shōden Katori Shintō-ryū. This is a much older martial art, adapted for modern purpose.”

Viktor blinked, not being able to follow the words at all. But Yuuri was already moving on.

“It is the style my family favors, though we are not exclusive to it. It has six different arts, but we will start with the sword art.”

Viktor’s curiosity was peaked. Yuuko hadn’t said anything like this. “What are the other arts?”

Yuuri darted a glance at him and away again. “The staff, the glaive, the spear, the spike, and jujutsu.”

Viktor couldn’t stop the tight spin of thrill in his chest at the idea of learning an entirely new branch of martial art, and one with so many facets. “What is a glaive?”

Yuuri seemed to notice his brightness and Viktor saw the flicker before it vanished. Strangely, Yuuri seemed to be trying not to look him in the eye. Interesting.

“Why do you want to learn this? You have enough skill. This will be difficult for you.” Yuuri said instead of answering.

Viktor shifted so his hip cocked out a little and folded his arms. “Are you saying I’m old?” he said as if he felt insulted.

Yuuri gave in and met his sardonic gaze with an exasperated one. “I meant that I have been trained in this art since I was five. And you are thirty-two this year.”

Viktor pushed his hair away from his eyes. “I’m a fast learner.”

“I cannot deny that.” Yuuri acceded swinging his katana upwards and onto his shoulder. “Shall we begin?”

The basics of sword arts were a series of slow, consecutive movements, involving the sword. Viktor’s body fought it, far more accustomed to a shorter blade that was weighted to center in his palm. Here, he had to make the sword another limb, an extension of his body, and he visibly struggled. It wasn’t the careful movement that was difficult, it was using something so much longer than he was used to. After an hour of studious practice, Viktor could see how movies made it seem comically simple, when it was opposite. He could also see how being able to use such a weapon properly would be intensely satisfying, and it renewed his will to better learn the instrument.

Yuuri continued to teach him, taking him through routines and chastising him when he made a mistake. At first, he would frown, and make a sharp remark on how Viktor should move differently, stand straighter, not let the point drop so low. Then he made Viktor move on his own so he could be a critical eye. Having Yuuri’s unwavering, uninterrupted attention on him was akin to be set very slowly on fire.

He had sweat through his training shirt, and removed it in favor of his vest. Yuuri raised an eyebrow.

“I thought you didn’t wear black.” He said

“Only on special occasions.” Viktor retorted, never ceasing his movement.

It was the first semblance of levity since the kitchen argument, and Viktor was stupidly happy.

By the fifth run through the routine, he had it perfected. Yuuri nodded in approval.

“You really do learn quickly. I almost feel envious.” Yuuri said, dropping his instrument and straightening out to face Viktor.

Viktor pushed damp hair from his eyes. “And why are you _not_ envious then?”

Yuuri had already begun to walk back to the weapons rack and said over his shoulder, “Because in a match I would still beat you.”

Viktor, without having any real proof of it, had to acknowledge that it was probably true. He may be a quick study, but he still only knew basics.

When Viktor came up to place his katana in the slot above Yuuri’s, his saw Yuuri’s hand move up towards his face, then stop with a twitch, which was closely followed by a negative twist of Yuuri’s mouth. Instead, his hand moved past his face to his hair, which had fallen into some disarray from their training. Viktor’s eyes watched the movement without realizing, watched as the slick, black strands were once again smoothed back and tidied away.

When his eyes drifted naturally to Yuuri’s he found the man staring at him, also watchful, and Viktor felt the world shift infinitesimally as they made contact. It was always like touching a battery, every time. Except for this time, Viktor knew why.

 _Fuck,_ he swore internally.

Yuuri was the first to look away, seemingly unmoved and Viktor was glad of it. The last thing he wanted was for Yuuri to see his weakness.

“Tell me, Viktor Silver, who is Katsuki Yuuri?” Yuuri said quietly.

Viktor started at the tone. It wasn’t an existential question, there was no emotion. It was said the way someone might ask a riddle, or speak a thought out loud. But clearly, it was also a question to be answered. Viktor folded his arms and put his brain into gear.

“Katsuki Yuri, age 26, inherited his the Katsuki clan mantel at the age of 21 after his father, Katsuki Toshiya, was killed in unconfirmed circumstances, after he had been its patriarch for 42 years, like his father before him. His sister, Katsuki Mari, is presumed missing and was last seen-“Viktor halted when Yuuri held up a hand. Then he waited.

Observing Yuuri was like observing a sunset. It appeared static, but the changes were subtle and slow, but if you blinked they were suddenly there and the previous incarnation gone. As Viktor watched, Yuuri’s expression had become…tight. He seemed to glare at the weapons racks, but his ire was meant for something beyond them.

It was fearsome. And it was beautiful and Viktor couldn’t stop looking.

“Phichit Chulanont was given me to me as a pet when I was ten years old.” Yuuri spoke quietly, “His father was one of my father’s courier men in France, and he fell through on a job one day. My father had his entire family brought in and kept in the basement for weeks, convinced that the Chulanont's had betrayed him. He only told me that this was how traitors were handled.”

Yuuri tone had become flat and his eyes glazed. “He brought Phichit to the office one day, and he was…barely alive. He had been starved, beaten and I could see his bones through his skin. He blinked in the hard light and stank like his own fluids. My father told me his parents were dead, but he had kept the little one for me. When I asked why he said that he would train Phichit up to be the perfect guard dog. The kind of guard dog that never wavers.”

Yuuri sighed, and Viktor saw the brief twitch of his hand. “And so Phichit and I grew up together, though he is my senior by a year. My father would take him away to be trained, to be taught, and then bring him back to me. He would show me how to beat him, force me to copy and then make Phichit swear his loyalty to me. After some time, the beatings were unnecessary. Phichit saw only me.”

Yuuri glanced up at Viktor then, whose muscles had stiffened in the telling of that story, and his dark eyes held only resignation. “I keep him close because he is a danger to everyone and himself when out of my immediate space. He is my responsibility. And so, there you have your answer.”

That was why Phichit looked at Yuuri as if he were the sun. And that if Yuuri were to burn him alive, he would adore the flames.

Viktor knew it. He had seen it. He understood every single thing Yuuri had said without trouble, because this was what they were; shadow people. There was no redemption for them, so they didn’t try.

As Yuuri walked away and left the room, Viktor felt he hadn’t truly understood cruelty until he had seen it from Yuuri’s perspective. And it made Yuuri infinitely more understandable now than he had been moments before.

Viktor frowned at the floor for a long time before he too left.

 

-*-

  
 ** _Tuesday_**  
\----------------------------------------

Christophe swatted at Viktor’s hand.

“Don’t touch my things,” Christophe complained and Viktor almost rolled his eyes. He also didn’t miss how the edges of Yuuri’s cheeks tightened and lifted, almost as if he wanted to smile.

“I have to show you where the meeting took place.” Viktor gritted out. “How can I do that if I cannot touch the blueprints?”

Christophe’s whirled his hands just over the paper now covering the large desk, showing the plans of an old shoe factory. “Just hover, like this.”

Viktor had to convey his frustration then. He gave Yuuri a pained look, as if to say _‘is he actually serious?_ ’

Yuuri only pulled on the cigar, but his amusement was plain in how he completely failed to help Viktor with his eccentric technician. So Viktor pointed, just at the spot he wanted to indicate and glared at Christophe.

“Here. They met here, and are said to meet again in a few days. Do you think you can find Yuuko a way in that doesn’t involve doorways and broken glass?”

“Is she planning on going through the ventilation system?” Christophe replied curtly, as unimpressed by Viktor's attitude as Viktor was by his. “Oh of course not, she is small, but not that small. Now if we try here…”

Christophe rattling monologue was no longer a surprise to the Russian, but it was still extremely irritating. He forced himself to calm down and listen.

“Maybe if we rig the roof with some weights, and if Yuuko has some company-“

“She will have company, Seung–Gil.”

“And me.” Phichit piped up from his place on the window sill behind Yuuri’s chair, where he was cleaning his fingernails with a knife.

“Hmm, yes, you’re all small enough. When must this be ready by?”

“Yesterday.” Viktor said sarcastically and Christophe huffed at him.

“No need to be grouchy. I’m doing _my_ job, go and do yours.”

Viktor looked at Yuuri again, the irritation simmering in his face and waited for the minuscule nod. Then he spread his fingers wide and put them both down in the center of the blueprint. Christophe cried out but Viktor fixed him with a glare.

“My job is making sure that everyone else does theirs, including you. Stop pissing me off.”

Christophe was torn between fussing over his precious blueprints and trying to hurl insults, but when Viktor saw from the corner of his eye Yuuri's hand lift slightly, he moved away again.

“Careful, techno-child, next time, I may not wash my hands.”

Christophe rolled up his papers and stormed off and the silver-haired Russian readjusted his ring so that the serpent’s eye was facing up.

Yuuri tilted his head in silent question; _was that necessary?_

Viktor shrugged; _I don’t care_.

 

-*-

 

 _ **Saturday**_  
\---------------------------------------

“The movement is fast, and then complete. _You_ carry on as if you’re following it outwards.” Yuuri chided Viktor. “It’s not a lyric, it’s a drum beat. This style was borne out of war.”

Viktor dropped his arms and tried again from the start, but soon Yuuri ‘tched’ in annoyance again.

“No. You are too used to short knives and you’re dancing.” Yuuri said and took a new stance in front of Viktor, but slightly to the left. “Again.”

Viktor steadied himself, trying to force the movements to stop, to be endings instead of ellipses. As his foot took him forward, he came to where Yuuri stood which was also the final movement he had been struggling to master. But as he lunged forward, Yuuri’s hand shot out and smacked into Viktor’s chest like a steel bar, stopping him completely. Firm, and immovable.

“Here.” Yuuri said, close to his ear, the hand on his chest becoming a fist and bumping against his ribcage softly. “You halt here. And here.” The hand moved and touched the  
katana held out before Viktor, grasping it and moving it slowly back. Viktor’s arms complied and his shoulders and elbows slithered in a greased movement until the tip of the weapon was touching Viktor’s hip.

Yuuri was intense when training, Viktor discovered, and he matched it. They found a natural rhythm when working together, both in the day and in these private nighttime sessions. Yuuko remarked on how much he'd improved, but he never mentioned his extra lessons with the Katsuki leader. He wanted to keep them to himself.

The smaller man was his equal in strength and skill, and it made for a perfect kind of learning experience. It did nothing to help Viktor’s ever-growing admiration for the man; he had always found power attractive. But it became the connection he craved. The feeling of electricity between them, harsh and addictive.

If he couldn’t have the man in any other way, at least he could have this, this twisted kind of intimacy that came out of a centuries-old tradition of war, violence, and power.

He knew he was getting better because Yuuri kept upping the challenges. They had even started sparring at times, though Katsuki leader found it frustrating since Viktor still struggled to follow the rules of the martial art. It was a practice with little flesh contact, but sometimes, when instructing through a phase, Yuuri would touch here or there, straightening a muscle or stance, sometimes with a touch as light as a finger touching his wrist.

The contact always stayed with him long after.

“Again.” Yuuri said.

 

-*-

 

 ** _Friday._**  
\-------------------------------------------------------

Viktor and Yuuri sat in the front seats, lights off and patient.

“I hate waiting,” Radek muttered from the back seat.

“Me too.” Added Rosto.

Viktor didn’t move a muscle. “If your information is correct, your man should be arriving any moment. If not…well, I would think you would prefer the waiting.”

Yuuri’s silver coin was the only movement in the car. It was nearly 1 AM and they were parked outside a club, not too close, but close enough to see if who they were waiting for  
came out the door. Viktor watched Yuuri’s fingers flicked the coin nimbly from one end to the other, without even a thought. He noticed that it stopped the twitches.

“You shouldn’t threaten us. We know who you are.” The one twin said.

“Viktor Silver Nikiforov.” the other added, saying it like a trump card.

Yuuri and Viktor shared a look.

“Oh dear, it appears I’ve been discovered.” Viktor said with mild shock.

“It was bound to happen. Maybe we should dye your hair.” Yuuri replied in an equally light tone.

Viktor touched his hair, sweeping it away from his face. “I thought you liked my hair.”

“Who cares about your hair!” both twins shouted from the back seat. Viktor turned. They were both fairly large, hairy sorts of men and had stupidly identical haircut and beards.

“You know, if I had a twin, I would at least try to look different from him, or her. You two seem rather childish. You even dress alike.”

Without warning, Viktor slipped a trail-point knife from his sleeve and pushed it against Rader’s throat. Both twins went from ‘irritated and mouthy’ to ‘terrified and mute’.

“Don’t forget whose car you’re in, and don’t forget that your continued lifespan is a matter of opinion at this point.” On saying the last word, he pushed the knife forward a little into Radek’s Adam’s apple, just enough to draw blood from his hairy neck. He waited until it had dripped down enough to stain the front of the man’s white shirt before pulling away.

“There, now I can tell you apart.” He said before turning to face the club again.

Yuuri’s coin continued to spin.

“There he is.” He said a moment later, when a dark haired man stepped out of the door, spilling music and light for a moment. He turned back to the now silent twins for confirmation and they nodded in silent tandem. Viktor sighed and got out of the car.

Phichit was a short distance away, in another vehicle with Akihiko. When he saw Viktor’s signal he came close.

“That’s him. You want to fetch this time or should I?” Viktor asked politely.

Phichit turned his ever-presentt scowl on Viktor, but it was ignored.

“You got the last one.” Phichit replied.

“True enough, but it didn’t count because we had to hand him over to Amery. I didn’t get to have any fun.”

“It counts.” Phichit pouted.

Viktor shook his head. “Fine. Please let Akihiko help. And please bring him back able to speak.”

Pichit declined to respond, only set off in the direction of the club and the now drunken man ambling away from it. Akihiko was soon on his heels and Viktor watched for a moment before ducking back into the car.

“And what do we do with these two?” Viktor asked as he started the engine of the Maserati.

Yuuri contemplated a moment before catching his coin in his hand.

“The dock.”

Ignoring protestations, Viktor drove them south, and hauled both men out of the back seat before lining them up in the edge of the pier.

“We can’t swim.” Rosto mewled.

“I suggest you learn very quickly.” Viktor told them with a slit-like smile, blue eyes glinting in the pier lights. “If you live, you will have learned two lessons; how to swim with both hands tied behind your back, and which side to pick when asked to play spy on a Katsuki job.”

He pushed.

When he got back into the driver’s seat he said; “That water is disgusting, you know.”

 

-*-

 

 ** _Monday_**  
\--------------------------------------------

  
“Enough.” Yuuri exclaimed with an exasperated sigh. “We have learned the sword masteries enough for now. Now it’s your turn to teach.”

Viktor blinked at the abrupt change. They had barely been practicing for half an hour. But Yuuri already had his katana propped up on his shoulder and a determined look in his eyes that said he had made his decision on the matter.

Viktor had only been employing capoeira during his training with the other clan members in the day, and they hadn’t touched on it in their nighttime sessions.

Viktor shrugged. “If the king demands it.”

He chuckled as he narrowly avoided a swipe at his head with a wooden stick.

“Must you always provoke?” Yuuri asked him, though the question had no bite to it. He had obviously become resigned to Viktor's light teasing by now.

“I didn’t realize that Katsuki Yuuri _could_ be provoked by a mere, toothless Russian dog.” Viktor replied and Yuuri darted a surprised look at him then grinned back.

Yuuri had become more like this. Easier with his smiles, looser with his expression. When it was just them two, Katsuki Yuuri was…Yuuri.

After two months of one on one training, Viktor had given in to his admiration. He knew it was pointless to fight it, but he it didn’t mean anything other than that. It was a crush. Less than that; it was a wish on a star. But he took what he could have, which was this; he and Yuuri sparring, both in word and act. The small hours with them alone. The times when Yuuri was required to leave the manor on business, including Viktor in his entourage.

Oh yes, he understood Phichit more each day.

Viktor led them both to the center mats and started with a simple stance. Yuuri was so obviously awkward that he stopped and tried to hide his smile behind his hand.

“What is this?” Yuuri demanded, looking adorably surly then.

Viktor shook his head and forced himself to look at the mat. “It is a beginner’s stance. Capoeira is like the sword arts; it is multifaceted. Some use it only for dance, some use it for exercise, and some, like me, have developed it into a martial art.” Viktor sank once again into the half crouch, to demonstrate. “And each of those facets begins like this.”

Yuuri shook out his shoulders and tried again, looking more appeased this time.

“Capoeira is about balance, about making sure that your body is loose and ready, going from a state of tension to relaxation then tension again. Each movement flows, and follows from the last, and connects to the first movement, like a loop.”

Viktor began a _ginga_ , alternating his feet and moving left to right in a triangular form. Yuuri watched closely for a moment, then mirrored Viktor. Going slowly, so that Yuuri could see better while he spoke.

“It is like a dance. This is a baseline, a starting point from where all other movements come. If you do not understand this movement first, the rest will be pointless.”

He watched Yuuri’s feet, which were right, and his body, which was wrong. He stilled.

“Have you never danced, Yuuri?”

Yuuri stopped himself and gave Viktor a look which said; ‘ _Guess_.’

Viktor shook his head. “Silly me. Alright, again. Focus on keeping your limbs loose. You move like a puppet.”


	12. Moments: Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri POV.

_**Thursday** _

 

Yuuri touched his cufflink, sliding the emerald out through its hole and carefully removing the jacket of his suit, then sliding it over a chair back.

Unbuttoning his tie, then top button, he sighed.

Phichit had been in a difficult phase today, turning on a fellow Katsuki after a passing remark made about something inconsequential. It was enough for Phichit to leap on the man, and leave several marks on his face before being pulled off.

What did you do with a dog that had no self-control? That attacked its brethren? That didn’t know the difference between friend and enemy?

He knew what his father would have done with such an animal. But he was not his father. So he stowed Phichit away in his room, and making it known that he would be allowed out when he was less volatile. In the face of Yuuri’s burning admonishment, he heeled, but only just enough.

It wasn’t for pity that Yuuri kept him. It was because the Katsuki serpent had been branded on his pitiful soul and that was Yuuri’s fault.

Phichit’s brain was a grenade whose pin was almost always missing. Yuuri knew that it was only for love of the serpent, and by extension Yuuri, that he even had the semblance of humanity. If Phichit ever left the Katsuki name…if he were ever allowed to his own devices? Yuuri didn’t know if it would take him mere days to self-destruct, or if would evolve into something far deadlier. He knew the others didn’t like him, that they were wary of him. This was why Yuuri kept him close. Not simply because Phichit would remove his own limbs before allowing Yuuri to come to harm, but because he was only safe when the leash was short.

But there were days, like today, when the wires in his head misfired, when the damage done by his father’s regime was raw, and Phichit was… well. He _was_.

In the en-suite he leaned forward, carefully removing his contacts and putting them neatly away, before rubbing at his face harshly and digging his fingers into his hair. When he slid the glasses on, and caught sight of himself in the mirror. A voice came into his mind, unbidden.

_By the way, the glasses look good on you, Yuuri._

It wasn’t the compliment now that made Yuuri recall these words more than once since they had been said. It was the increasing desire to be in that presence; calm, un-judgmental and secure. To be called ‘Yuuri’. Not Bosu, king, serpent, or Katsuki.

To be only “Yuuri.’

 

-*-

 

_**Saturday** _

 

 

It was early evening, and Yuuri was only just come back from a short meeting, unsatisfied and tired. He was about to make the turn to his private rooms when a burst of loud laughter halted him. Letting curiosity take him, he followed the noise to a rec-room filled with off-duty Katsuki, and lingered just outside the doorway, watching.

Surprised.

“My turn.” A woman said, taking a seat, and opposite her sat Viktor, looking smugly amused.

“Kameko, you have already played this game against me. You lost.” Viktor chuckled, and Yuuri noticed his Japanese was a far cry from the awkward, stilted thing it had been a few months ago. He learned everything so quickly, even a language completely unlike his own.

Kameko ignored the derisive laughter and laid her hands flat against his thighs. “I will wager you a tenth of my pay this week.”

Viktor held four, no, six, knives in his hands, in the gaps of his fingers, and he waved them about tauntingly. “Kameko, you know I don’t gamble. Especially when I know I’m going to win. It would be cheating.”

“If I win, I get to cut your hair off.” She went on, undeterred. Her black eyes were glittering, obviously determined.

Viktor sighed and shook his head, setting said hair swinging. “What is it with you Japanese and my hair?”

“Enough talk,” Kameko said, punctuating her words with a slap on her thigh.

Then commenced a bizarre game of juggling. Viktor started with one knife, tossing it in a light arch across the metering gap between them, once she had caught it and tossed back, he added a second and soon after, a third. Her face was pinched with concentration, eyes following the shining blades as they came and tossing them back to the silver haired Russian. Viktor had that ever-present smirk in the corner of his mouth as his hands caught and tossed, barely looking at what he was doing.

“Ready for the fourth?” Viktor asked and Kameko merely grunted. Another was added to the juggling act and Kameko almost stumbled was managed to keep the rhythm. There was an appreciative sound from the audience; apparently, Kameko was treading a line.

Yuuri watched, unaware of the smile that had grown on his face. He was observing the knives as closely as the rest of them. Kameko was obviously putting her all into the game, determination shining on her face, and glee in her eyes.

The Viktor started singing. It was in Russian, but it had a short repetitive tune, sounding like a nursery rhyme of sorts. It was quiet but jaunty and accompanied by Viktor’s sly waggling of eyebrows, funny. A few of the others snickered.

Kameko managed a single before dropping a knife, the other glanced off her elbow and a third bounced point first on her thigh. She cursed, brushing it away with irritation.

“You cheat, Russian.” She grumbled, but it was hard to take her seriously when all around her were laughing and patting her shoulder.

“Oh, don’t be a sore loser. It’s a challenge after all.” Viktor replied, gathering his knives again before sitting.

Phichit was next.

He seated himself where Kameko had been, and the congenial chatter in the room died slightly, but Viktor only tilted his head looking at Phichit, assessing.

“Again?” he inquired.

Phichit sniffed at him. “I got up to five last time. This time it was to be six. And the one you drop will be my prize.” Phichit declared, his scowl challenging.

Viktor only shrugged. “If you insist. But even if you are so skilled at to beat me at my own game, I choose which one you get to take home.”

Pichit sniffed again but laid his hands ready on his thighs. The game started once more, and Phichit was clearly far more able than Kameko had been, his clever quick hands almost snatching the knives from the air instead of letting them land. He tossed them a little too strongly, because they would land near Viktor face.

“If you throw them too harshly, the game is forfeit. This is juggling. Knife throwing is for another day.” Viktor said mildly.

To Yuuri’s surprise, Phichit’s tactics calmed, until the knives were landing near Viktor’s lap, as they should have been. Pichit’s face, usually twisted into a rictus of some scowl or ghastly grin, was passive now, eyes following the knives.

Soon they were up to five knives. Phichit gained control of theme easily, eyes shifting fast.

“Ready for the sixth?” Viktor called.

“Do it.” Was Phichit brief response.

The last knife was added, its handle different from the rest, in gleaming red and gold. The glitter of six different knives flying back and forth through the air was rather beautiful, its pattern almost hypnotic.

Pichit’s face was harder now with concentration, his fingers moving too quickly, while Viktor’s simply followed a repeated movement.  Yuuri could see that soon, he would slip…

Then a knife clattered, followed by the rest, and a guttural sounding curse in Russian.

Viktor looked peeved. Glancing down at the floor, and removing the knife from his shirt sleeve, he grimaced and cursed again. Then he looked at Phichit.

“Well done.” He said with bad grace, and Phichit’s own face cracked with a grin. Before he could grab one, Viktor leaned down to pick up a black skeleton knife and handing it over to the eager man.

“This isn’t your favorite.” Phichit accused.

Viktor raised an eyebrow. “Why on earth would I give you my favorite? When you can beat me with ten blades, then you can choose whichever one you want.”

Pichit clutched at the prize for a moment longer, before getting up and leaving the room via another door.

Yuuri saw Viktor gather up the blades again and look around. “Who’s next?”

Yuuri was almost certain Viktor hand hadn’t so much slipped as swiped, which was all the difference between a mistake and an action of intent.

He turned thoughtfully away.

 

-*-

 

**_ Friday _ **

\-----------------------------------

 

“You’re holding them incorrectly. Again.” Yuuri pointed out with some satisfaction. He found it endlessly entertaining that the tall Russian, who had learned three of the sword arts in as many months, had picked up a fair amount of Japanese, and who Yuuri had actually seen slice a man’s ear off in one wasteless movement, still couldn’t eat with chopsticks.

At Yuuri’s criticism, Viktor’s fingers fumbled and the sticks dropped to the table. Yuuri laughed softly and his mother chided him.

“Perhaps we should get you the cutlery again?” Yuuri teased as he put a ball of rice into his mouth.

“I don’t see why I cannot eat sushi with my hands.” Viktor grumbled, looking as surly as Yuuri would ever see him. “No, I will master this.”

Yuuri watched him fail a little longer before putting down his own and leaning across the small table.

“Why do you fight them? They aren’t knives, they’re just bamboo.” Yuuri said as he took Viktor’s hand and put the fingers just so, the sticks here, and pressing the tips of his fingers against Viktor’s to indicate where he should apply pressure. Viktor’s hand were unexpectedly soft, his skin smooth and fingers longer than Yuuri’s.

Viktor had stilled and was staring at the contact, a tight line where his mouth usually was.

“Viktor?”

A clear blue gaze met his, and Yuuri was startled. As always, the connection made when they locked eyes was something real, something he could hold. Even something he relished. To who else was he ‘Yuuri’ other than his mother? Who else could read his intentions and true feelings with a look?

But the blueness of his eyes was harder now, tense and suddenly Yuuri felt guilty for the contact. He let go gently, but there were no words for him to say.

Viktor made a small apology in Japanese to him and his mother soon after, and left the table. Yuuri picked up his chopsticks again and began to eat.

He wondered what it would be like now, if Viktor wasn’t there. Didn’t follow his movements when walking into a room, didn’t take the time to share a glace with him, to understand him and call him by his first name. Not have Viktor’s taller, broader presence at his side, not to have Viktor’s clever mind available when he needed to work through the intricacies of a plan or a problem.

How had the man, who had been a stranger less than a year ago, become so integral to the Katsuki clan? Why had it become so important to be seen by Viktor Silver? Why had Yuuri never thrown away the silver braid that now lay in the bottom drawer of his bedside cabinet?

Why Viktor?

 

-8-

 

**_ Saturday _ **

 

Yuuri swung out with his arm, then followed it with a wide arc of his leg. Viktor ducked it, turning the movement into an elegant turn that made the curve of his neck stand out for a moment, before falling back into a shifting stance further away from Yuuri.

Yuuri pushed the sweat out of his eyes, into his hair, following the taller man. If he went too far out of his reach, then he started to become blurry around the edges. Yuuri had learned early that fighting with his contacts in was an idiotic thing to do.

He danced on his left foot and launched at Viktor’s chest, Viktor caught his foot, angling his chest out of the way and twisting so that Yuuri turned in midair and smacked chest-first into the mats.

“You’re not concentrating, Yuuri.” Viktor panted, wiping his mouth, only one blue eye visible, and the other hidden behind a curtain of grey.

Yuuri sprang back onto his feet, gliding the motion into a ginga and lowering his head. Viktor shook his head but followed suit, ready to start again. The serpent ducked low and pushed forward, aiming to come out underneath Viktor’s arms. He was fast, so his head collided with the other man’s chest hard, forcing him back. Viktor grunted but corrected masterfully with a backward twist-flip, his muscles shining and defined in the light.

 _Stop it, you idiot_. Yuuri cursed himself, and jumped forward after his opponent.

Viktor was ready, tilting away out of line of Yuuri fist and spinning, coming up with his leg, which curled around Yuuri neck and pushed him down. They both thudded hard into the mat and Yuuri grunted in annoyance, though also breathless.

“What is _wrong_ Yuuri?” Viktor said then, still panting, but his face only holding concern. “You’re not yourself.”

In that moment, Yuuri hated his face. Hated the way this man could be both cruel and kind in the same breath, hated how he was pinned to the floor with his leg, their sweat mingling and making their skins slide. He hated all of it and he hated himself.

Bucking hard, Viktor now loose leg was easy to remove. He jack-knifed to his feet and stepped away, shaking his head hard before sinking once again into the ginga.

“Again.”

Viktor rose more slowly eyes on Yuuri and confused. After a time, he shook his head, resolute.

“No.”

Yuuri nearly hissed. “Fight me, Russian.”

“This isn’t a fight, Yuuri. This is training.”

“Stop calling me Yuuri!”

Viktor hadn’t looked away or moved, he simply continued as he was. Yuuri straightened his body, but his fists couldn’t unclench.

“Do your job. Teach me, as we agreed.” Yuuri said harshly, anger so plain in his voice, a small part of his brain was shocked.

 

 _You are emotionless, you are more than they are, or will ever be, Katsuki Yuuri, the serpent’s son._ His father’s voice echoed in his head.

 _I’m not_. Yuuri replied.

 

Without truly considering it first, Yuuri’s body surged forward, and he planted a kick in the center of Viktor’s chest. He heard the thud, the harsh whoosh of air leaving his lungs. Then he caught at the man’s neck as he fell the floor, his knee pushing into Viktor’s diaphragm and hand tight.

Viktor wheezed and that’s when Yuuri’s mind realized Viktor hadn’t fought back. In the entire time, Yuuri had known him, Viktor had never let himself be harmed, never been beaten.

“Fight _back_.” Yuuri said through gritted teeth.

Viktor blinked and, in spite of being nearly strangled, calmly tried to pull in breath. “No.”

“Why?” Yuuri demanded. “Why not?”

Viktor swallowed and Yuuri could feel the slide of his Adam's apple beneath his hand. He realized that if he wanted an answer, he would have to extract it. Eventually, he did, and Viktor’s eyes opened wider and he pulled air in deeply. Yuuri noticed the expansion of his lungs, far too aware of the bare chest that his knee straddled.

“Because,” Viktor finally replied. “I don’t think you want to fight me. I think there is something bothering you, and I think it has something to do with me.”

Yuuri was holding himself above Viktor now, their faces level and fighting an internal war he didn’t have a name for.

“I hate you.” Yuuri whispered.

“No.” was Viktor’s simple answer.

The war within was too much and Viktor was too close. Yuuri followed his eyes down to where they wanted to go, and placed a kiss against Viktor’s mouth.

Ignoring the clamoring voices that were telling him all the ways in which this was idiocy, self-destruction, Yuuri allowed himself the moment. The pliable softness of Viktor’s mouth under his, the small huff of breath as Yuuri made contact, the heat of their energized bodies so close. This contact wasn’t like anything else they shared, the eye contact, the wordless communication, the teasing. It was delicacy and desire and questing.

When Yuuri pulled away, he saw Viktor’s eyes still closed and mouth still parted.

The clamoring returned.

Yuuri fled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok, so i wrote the fight scene at the end to Skylar Grey's "Wreak Havoc"


	13. Avoidance in place of ignorance.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor is sad.  
> Yuuri tries to forget but fails.  
> troublesome encounter with uppity Czech mob boss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit of a long one. And it doesn't resolve what happened in the last chapter.  
> Sorry, I know you'll hate me for it. But the next chapter is coming...

Viktor did not lift himself from the mats for some time. He didn’t move a muscle. His eyes remained closed, his breathe still expelled through open lips.

He wasn’t waiting. He knew Yuuri had left and would not be returning. He had seen the fury in his face, the regret.

The reason Viktor didn’t move was because he hadn’t made a decision yet. The void inside Viktor, which had once been nothing but a space, was now overrun with thoughts and voices and they warred, while Viktor stood on a knife edge, unwilling to fall quite yet.

It was one thing to become infatuated with someone, even if that someone was Katsuki Yuuri. He was sure that he wasn’t the first or the last person to find that the Japanese crime boss completely and utterly alluring. More than half his subjugates were in love with him already, whether they knew it or not.

Viktor doubted though, that any had been kissed by him.

He would bet on it.

The press of Yuuri’s mouth to his was a shock, and still in the realm of unreal. But it had happened and now victor wished he could still the tight springing thrill in his chest, chiding himself for reacting like a teenager. He had let himself be kissed, and not kissed back because a well-honed habit of self-preservation had kicked in and managed to stop him.

Because ultimately, Yuuri had run.

Viktor bit the inside of his cheek hard, wishing the pain would become more than the hurt that knowledge caused. Yuuri had kissed him, then hated him, then run. Regardless of Viktor’s feelings on the matter, he was hardly one to school anyone in the vagaries of human sexuality. Was he supposed to run after him? Convince Yuuri it was alright to be heterosexual until he wasn’t? That kissing victor was fine because he so badly _wanted_ to be kissed by him, Yuuri? That victor was somehow worth engaging in a completely dangerous affair, for the sake of a crush?

No.

Viktor got up then, wishing he could forget the kiss and longing for more, even knowing he would never receive it.

 

-*-

Yuuri beat a fast pace to his rooms, sweeping past the sentries doing their rounds in the manor and on the grounds. He sought to regain control over himself, but it was like climbing a flat glass wall. As soon as he found purchase, he would recall the feeling Viktor’s soft hair, or the heat of his breathe against his face, and it would be gone.

When he got to his rooms, he wrenched open a drawer and fished out a small, non-descript cell phone. He dialled a number, letting it ring once before hanging up and throwing the object with unnecessary force back into the drawer before going to find the shower.

Katsuki Yuuri’s sexuality was not something to be discussed or considered, not even by Yuuri himself. There was no room for that kind of sentiment in his life, and apart from the fact that he may have to think about siring an heir at some point, he had always pushed such indulgences to the side.

There were offers, both subtle and not. His father had been self-indulgent in that way, monogamy being an archaic idea that simply didn’t apply. Yuuri, in complete contrast, preferred abstinence. Romance was a nonsensical idea, and sex…well sex was something that Yuuri took part in only when he had to.

Such as now.

Yuuri knew that if his father had ever found out that he found any woman as appealing as a brick, he would have been re-educated without a thought.  It wasn’t something that made sense, so Yuuri pushed it away. But rumour was a clever little thing, like weeds growing up between pavement blocks. If it had been up to him alone, he would have been happy to be considered asexual, as he didn’t see how it affected his skills or his duty. But his father had felt otherwise. So one day, Yuuri had been introduced to Jun-lee.

Nineteen at the time, Yuuri was inexperienced but not ignorant. Jun-lee was a coveted, and exclusive courtesan, beautiful and pale, trained in the arts of obedience and pleasure the way Yuuri was trained to take over the clan. Only the best for Katsuki Yuuri.

When she had been given to Yuuri, she had never been touched. His father had said this was right.

And so Yuuri had done as his father wished, and told him later of the act and thanked him for such a gift. Then Jun-lee had been given a small house on the edge of the property, and asked not to come into the manor at all unless called for.

When Katsuki Toshiya had died, Yuuri had gone to her and told her that if she wanted a life outside of his service, he would happily give her one on the condition that she remain his courtesan alone.

And so the arrangement continued. Yuuri made use of her often enough to keep rumours at bay, but never so much that he felt sick from it.

It didn’t matter that it was 4 AM, Jun-lee arrived at his rooms in twenty minutes, entering quietly as he stood at his balcony window, glaring at his own reflection. Eyes darting left, he saw her, dressed in a simple blue robe with silver stars embroidered on the hems, her face directed demurely at the floor, awaiting her master.

Yuuri removed his robe and sat at his desk chair, without a word. She needed no instruction. Coming up behind him, she soundlessly pulled open the top drawer where the phone had landed and gathered up a collection of oils, before coming back to Yuuri.

Jun-lee had good hands, and Yuuri appreciated her massaging skills far more than anything else about her. He suspected she knew this, and that was why she had become so good at it. She never spoke. Her hair, jet black and cut severely short in a tapering bob swung like heavy silk as she kneaded the oil into Yuuri shoulders, her knuckles expertly sliding over the bunches and knots. Yuuri closed his eyes, willing himself to focus on her hands. To feel these hands here. Not other hands that were calloused, with shortened finger nails and elegant with a knife.

Jun-lee worked over his shoulders gradually, and when he didn’t lean forward she began to travel down his chest, pushing and kneading at the firmness of his pectorals, ignoring the scars. Eventually, she came around to his front, facing him as he slouched in the chair and glaring at nothing. When he nodded, she pulled her robe open and let it slither to the floor, revealing her body that was still perfect even after eight years in his service, still without blemish and still very female. She climbed onto his lap lightly, weighing little more than child and began her work once more.

Yuuri had to close his eyes now. He knew what he needed, but he couldn’t admit to himself what he needed to do to get it. Jun-lee’s small strong hands were working their way downwards, and Yuuri _wanted_ an erection. Not for Jun-lee’s sake; he knew she would never speak of what went on here, between them. But because he needed release, and Jun-lee was the only one who could give it to him at this time.

Her hands smoothed down his sides and she reversed off his lap to kneel, her educated fingers moving between his legs and trailing soft feathery lines along the inside of his things.

_Silver hair, swinging to cover unnaturally blue eyes._

Her hand brushed against his pubic hair, tickling and anticipatory.

_The long smooth line of a muscular neck, making the eye follow downwards to the glistening pectoral._

Fingers cupped his ball-sack lightly, and Yuuri sighed silently.

_A flicker of a grin that could be either the indication of amusement, or a signal that blood would flow soon._

A tongue travelled up the underside of his erection, warm and wet.

‘ _Yuuri, the glasses look good on you_.’

A lick, a kiss at the top of his cock before a mouth opened up to draw in his length.

Viktor’s hands along the length of a staff, Viktor’s leg against his neck.

The mouth drew down, up again then down further until he was firmly inside.

 _Viktor mouth against his. The imagined feeling of how it would feel to grind against that mouth, to bite at the skin, to feel him reciprocate_.

The mouth worked its smooth repetitive motion as fingers pulled lightly at his ball-sack. He could feel his climax approaching.

He saw those blue eyes again.

 _Viktor lounging against the wall at the bathhouse, cheeks pink from good food and sake and smiling_.

 _I would do anything for you Yuuri_.

Yuuri controlled his jerk by clutching at the arm rest. He didn’t open his eyes again until Jun-lee had removed herself from him completely, and he saw she was sitting back, on her haunches, eyes slightly glazed but waiting.

He reached to touch her face, flawless, and could only imagine grey stubble where her jaw was smooth.

He sighed as he met her eyes.

“Are you content?” He asked her in a flat voice.

She blinked slowly, like a cat. “I am content.”

Yuuri let his hand drop and sat back again. He waved his hand dismissively, no longer wanting her near, and she gathered her robe and stood, leaving again, quieter than a breath.

-*-

If anyone noticed anything between Viktor and Yuuri a day later, they said nothing. But since they were headed to a meeting with Jakub Crocotura, the atmosphere was already more distilled, and the lack of usual conversation wasn’t unusual, and Viktor was grateful for it.

Viktor ceded the front seat to Pichit, even though it wasn’t his turn and the fevered eyed creature said nothing, but slid into the driver’s seat with a smug grin nonetheless. Yuuri, already in the passenger’s side, stared ahead, coin playing over his fingers quick and light.

It seemed Yuuri was as eager to forget the kiss as Viktor was, and Viktor accepted that with a hard swallow. It was better this way. Enough time would pass and the reality of it would fade and become another childish fantasy, he would question whether it had ever really happened at all. Until, then, he would train in the daytime, or in the gym when he could be alone.

Crocotura club was not on the usual strip, but tucked in the corner of the industrial district, in an old warehouse. From without, it wasn’t anything to notice; it was a dark façade, the windows closed and barred. Only a neon green stylised hyena design hovering over a set of steel double doors, and a collection of cars in its front, indicated there was anything there at all.

The Crocotura’s were becoming a nuisance. And Viktor knew his boss had been about to arrange an actual face to face meeting when he received a request for the same from them. Since it was better than the bloody scuffles in side streets and sending bits and pieces of people back and forth, Yuuri accepted.

Jakub Crocotura was a Czech mob boss with the ambition to carve himself a hole in Japan, and had started in Hasetsu. Viktor had thought this was extraordinarily cheeky, since it was the nest of the Katsuki, but in spite of some very clear warnings, Jakub seemed was determined to ignore them. Several times, his men had been found hovering around Katsuki property, been reported to have tried to bribe and flatter Katsuki partners into coming over to work for them instead. In their own country, they had been around long enough to be able to keep pumping money into their new enterprise, because the amount of money they kept offering was ridiculous. When Yuuri heard this, his fist would clench and he would bite on the end of his cigar, and Viktor wondered if anyone else noticed the tooth marks.

Even though it was loyalty and tradition that kept Katsuki partners under their umbrella, Jakub seemed to think it was just a matter of persuasion. After a few weeks of Jakub ever increasing forcefulness, it was time to have a conversation.

So the Bugatti was filled with Yuuri, Pichit, and Viktor, while the Nishigori couple followed behind with Akihito as driver. It was a show of strength, not a threat but a warning, having some of the Katsuki clans most dangerous hands with him tonight. Yuuri had asked that weapons be hidden but to be free with them if necessary, and pichit’s eyes had gleamed with the words.

The steel doors were opened by a bouncer who had the same bear like facial hair Viktor had come to associate with the Czech mob. He found it distasteful after becoming accustomed to the clean cut neatness in the manor.

They were led down a set of stairs and the heavy sound of bass become louder very quickly, reverberating off the walls and into their bodies. Viktor kept his hands hidden into his plaid grey trench coat pockets, again making sure his blades were loose and hadn’t tangled while seated in the car. Toshiro was ahead of him, wearing only a muscle shirt and his rather impossible muscles on display. Viktor had told him it was stupid to go without wearing some kind of protection, but the enormous man had only grinned and laughed jovially. Pichit and Yuuko were, as usual, in their black skin tight assassin outfits, making them look like a matching set, and you would never guess that a small creature like Yuuko was married to a bear like Toshiro. Yuuri, in contrast to all of them, wore his suit, tailored to his small form, stretching snugly over his unexpectedly broad shoulders. The only thing that set him apart today from his usual attire were the short leather gloves he wore on his hands, which Viktor knew meant he had a gun hidden about his person.

The club was a darkened place, the only lights set low to the floor and in shades of red and dirty orange. There was a writhe of bodies to the left of them where red and green strobe light beat in time to the heavy, rough music, and Viktor narrowed his eyes away until they adjusted to the gloom. Gradually he saw on the right were a series of high backed booths filled with men and women, alcohol and drugs and flesh. The atmosphere in the club was one of low, thrilling illegality, and stank of sweat and sweet smoke.

As they were led through, with a slowness that was deliberate, they came into another room that was of a different caliber.

“The desire rom.” Their escort said to them.

The music here was muted, but the air was heavy anyway. There were people here too, wearing masks, leathers, and ropes. Whips and toys and black velvet were in abundance. A man bent a woman over the back of a claw foot couch and thrust into her roughly while she moaned through a ball gag. Another man was hogtied and being masturbated over. It was sex and opulence and it smelled worse than the previous room had. None of the Katsuki party spared it anytime at all; this display was so obvious it was tasteless.

The next set of stairs final led them to a gleaming hallway, with warm light and marble lined walls, and suddenly they were in a king’s waiting room in its center a pair of hand carved doors with gold handles, and victor nearly rolled his eyes. They were flush, they were gaudy, and they were boring.

A hand was held out barring entry.

“Only Katsuki.” Their escort grated out.

Yuri turned to the man slowly and said “No.”

The man’s caterpillar eyebrows came together and became one. “Jakub says only Katsuki Yuuri.”

“Tell your hyena that Yuuri says no.” Yuuri replied icily.

While the escort went in on his own and they waited, Viktor took the moment to analyse the hallway in which they stood. There was only one door leading out, and he could see where others might have been but would have been bricked over. Other than that, only a small window, barely large enough for a child to crawl through, was at the far east end. The hallway itself on boasted an embroidered carpet and a pedestal holding a dark grey sculpture of a hyena in what Viktor assumed was some kind of clay.

The man returned and nodded.

“Jakub says, only two. The others must wait.” He said I his thickly accented English. “The other may go a play.”

Yuuko made a gagging noise and shared a quickly amused look with her husband. Yuuri turned and pointed to Viktor and Pichit and went forward.

True to character, Jakub sat behind a desk that was so overly ornate, he was surprised it served as a desk at all. Its four corners were held up on the backs on hyenas all baring their teeth in disturbing smiles. The room itself was a decadent display of too yellow gold guiding and Roman columns, red and gold threaded curtains draped over paintings. The heavy Persian carpet muffled their feet and Jakub greeted them like he was Midas himself. Viktor was completely unsurprised to find the man had gold tipped teeth, with a diamond glinting off one incisor.

He got up arms spread and came around to them, as they were old friends come to visit his parlor.

“Katsuki Yuuri, the great head of the serpent, we finally meet.” He boasted, with a deep voice. He was a barrel-chested man, with long, thick brown hair that dusted the collar of his snug pink shirt.

Yuuri only inclined his head very slightly. “Jakub Crocotura.” He greeted in reply, not quite rudely, but reserved. This was a meeting to find an accord; specifically to make clear that Jakub’s place in Japan was under Katsuki reign or not at all.

But Viktor’s shoulders felt hot, like they had been smeared with wintergreen. Something was off…

Viktor shoved the kitschy décor out of his mind and assessed the room. Jakub also had two men, the one being their escort and the other a man about as tall as Viktor and a nose that had seen several fists, some fairly recently. He glared at Viktor, though it was possible that was just his face. Still, in spite of the ringmaster display Jakub was enacting, Viktor felt a tension that was more than just the general feeling. It was…anticipation.

He glanced to the left to catch Phichit’s eye, but the crazy little shit was wandering the room, plucking at draperies and eyeing the décor.

“Come, come, we must sit. I hear these are your favorites.” Jakub was saying to Yuuri, and he was handed a cigar box, which he then offered to Yuuri. Immediately Pichit was at his side, clipping the end and snapping open the lighter with a metallic _chink_ , whip fast. Once Yuuri had smoked the cherry bright, nodded to Jakub and said. “Thank you.”

They seated themselves at the two armchairs to the side of the wide room, leaving their men behind. Viktor decided the best place to stand would be at an equal distance between the two men, where he wouldn’t be invasive, but could still catch Yuuri’s eye. Unfortunately, his immaculately dressed boss wasn’t looking his way at all.

“You like?” Jakub asked Yuuri, with a gregarious smile eyes bright.

Yuuri blew out sickly sweet smoke. “It’s not my favourite but it is good. Where is it from?”

There was some small talk like this, as if it mattered, while the two men assessed each other, drawing ephemeral lines in the sand with their words, hidden threats and warnings over trivial matters. Viktor heard it all while his eyes swept over the room for a third time, looking for the thing he was waiting for, knowing it he recognise it when he saw it.

“Jakub, I am not here to discuss the weather.” Yuuri said eventually, cutting small talk short. “I am here because we have business.”

Jakub nodded as if this were a regrettable way to ruin an enjoyable evening, but a necessity nonetheless. “Ah yes yes. I suppose we must.”

He let the silence drag out a little, to see if Yuuri would fill it, but the serpent head only sat in his velvet lined wing-back, puffing on cigar smoke with one legs folded elegantly over the other. Jakub grinned again at some internal joke and spread his hands.

“I have been thinking that you and I, we should go into business together.”

Yuuri again, said nothing, but gave the impression he was being patient, so Jakub seemed to swallow his annoyance and went on, his accent and way of speaking making the words seem comical, even though they weren’t.

“You see, I want to make a place here for myself. But when I go to the harbours, or the clubs, or the markets, they say to me ‘ _no, no, ask the snake. We only know the snake_.’ Now, at first I was impressed. Generations of power have borne you loyalty that is certain. You are a ruler here, in Hasetsu.”

“In Japan.” Yuuri corrected him mildly.

Jakub ignored him and went on, still as jovial as a car salesman. “However, over some time it seemed to me to be a little unbalanced. Unfair.”

Yuuri blinked slowly. “Unfair.”

Jakub nodded his large head enthusiastically and leaned back in his chair. “Yes. How am I, a small businessman away from his country, to make a place for myself here, if everything already has the serpent stamp upon it? No, no, it is too much. And now, here and there,” he flicked his hands in out in descriptive gestures, “our people hurt each other, yes? Only trying to do their masters’ bidding this is not fair on them either.”

Jakub shook his head morosely. “And so, I thought to myself, come let us meet. And here you are, to grace me with your presence.” Again, the flash of gold tipped teeth. For a sixth time, Viktor’s eyes swept the room, and a sixth time, found nothing. But the cold heat in his shoulder was prickling and he could that even Pichit finally looking wary. His fever bright eyes found Viktor’s and the Russian gave him the tiniest head shake to indicate his unease. Pichit didn’t stop his meandering, but his eyes weren’t wandering aimlessly anymore.

The cigar was hanging from Yuuri hand now, letting the thick smoke trail high into the air.

“Jakub Crocotura.” Yuuri began, his tone far from jaunty and jovial. “You are new here, like a puppy, and you stumble around thinking you can came whatever you piss on. I will say this once to you, although in all honesty, I should not have to say it at all. In a short time-what is it? Four months? Not including the time you spent under the name Vanjya Maroshka- you have set up a drug ring that is slowly encroaching on Hasetsu like a bad mould. I know you operate that, as well a child prostitution ring from here in your club. In fact, in the last six months, if I see something that makes me feel ill, I only have to look for the hyena insignia and know why.”

“However, as revolting as I find your practices, I have given you your small piece of land. Only because you operate using your own people, your own countrymen, and as disgusting as that is, I can hardly find personal insult in it.”

“However, you are not in Czechoslovakia.  Hyenas don’t belong in Japan. And as soon as you started trying to overlap your business with mine, problems arose. I won’t believe you were so over-confident as to believe you could come here and simply plant a metaphorical flag in the dirt, so I have to assume its arrogance. So I will make it clear now.”

“The Katsuki clan does not have ‘partners’. It has underlings. If you wish to operate in this city, then you work beneath me. I do not make peace with you, you make offerings to me. Understood?”

Jakub’s face had gone from playful to scowling as Yuuri spoke, and was now an absolute glower. All traces of the earlier congeniality gone.

“Fairness, does not come into it.” Yuuri added, pulling on the cigar long and slow.

“That is not a good way to treat guests.” Jakub growled.

Yuuri waved a languid hand. “You are not a guest. At best you are an alien, at worst you are a parasite, seeming to leech off my city for your own gain and turning it as ugly in the process. I know of the Crocotura” Yuuri leaned forward slightly. “Perhaps in your home country, your business ideas would be normal, but here, I am the judge and I find them disgusting.”

Jakub was not happy and he flicked the ash from his cigar harshly onto the carpeting. “Disgusting? How can you say that when so much of Japanese flesh is shipped over-seas, from under the serpent banner?”

Yuuri didn’t deign to reply, and so Jakub raised his eyebrows.

“Ah wait, that was your father yes? The red eyed snake, not so?”

Viktor knew enough that mentioning Yuuri’s father in this context was not a wise move.

“If you were hoping to find my father, your disappointment is not surprising. And you would have been wilfully ignorant. However, you are correct, I am not my father. And I do not explain my practices to you. I lay terms, and you follow them. In this way, I am very much like my father.”

Yuuri turned his cigar upside down, and buried its cherry into one of the velvet upholstered chair arms, twisting it until the smoke died out, and Viktor saw Jakub’s face become something very dark.

“Unless you wish our skirmishes to become something far more…dramatic, I suggest you think it over carefully, and then come back to me. Otherwise, I give you one month, and if you do not remove your disgusting hyena from my streets, I will remove it for you.” Yuuri said coolly before standing.

Viktor felt his chest grow tight. Even though he was still on high alert, his hair stood on end to hear Yuuri speak in such a way and it made warmth pool low in his belly. Then the malicious glitter of Jakub’s eye snapped him back.

“I hear you, Katsuki Yuuri.” Jakub said in a low growl. “I will admit, I feel the same about my people. I also wish to protect them. And if they are hurt, avenge them.”

The prickling on Viktor’s skin increased and he moved subtly closer to Yuuri’s body, keeping an eye of the two muscle men in the corners of the room. Jakub made a quick gesture with his hand that made victor’s hand twitch, and he almost reached for his blades instinctively. Instead he looked blatantly at Yuuri who finally looked back, and he could see that Yuuri instantly read the alarm in his expression. Yuuri hands dropped and victor saw how his stance loosed ever so slightly, becoming ready.

“Perhaps you recall Radek?” Jakub said, and from behind one of the heavy curtains stepped a figure, the hairy bearded man from the other night. Alone.

“He is one of mine. A cousin in fact. As was his twin brother.”

The uneasy aura Viktor had been sensing just out of sight descending hard then, as Radek turned his face on Viktor. He looked harsher than before, more lines to his face, more anger in his expression.

“Rosto is however, no longer with us, as he drowned at one of your docks. Radek tells me it was due to your man here,” Jakub looked at Viktor, acknowledging him for the first time. “Viktor Silver Nikiforov.”

Viktor shifted more obviously now, angling his body so it could cover Yuuri if required, and Phichit was already moving towards the door, hands away from his body and ready to each for weapons.

“Yes, I know who he is. I cannot decide though, if it is a charity case for the toothless dog Yaakov threw away, or picking up someone else’s spoils.” Jakub said, watching Viktor all the while. “Regardless, I propose this; I will accept your terms, whatever they may be. Crocotura will come in under the Katsuki name, and we will hammer out our deals from there. One condition: an eye for an eye, a man for a man. Although it is hardly the same; Rosto was my blood, but this Russian? He sticks out so obviously, he is clearly not Japanese. Let alone related to you.”

Yuuri paused as he listened to the Czech’s words, then calmly buttoned is jacket closed and straightened it.

“No.”

Jakub eyes turned stormy, but he was ignored. Yuuri began making his way to the door, and Pichit immediately opened it so he and Viktor could exit. Their pace was slow, unaffected and Viktor could understand why it was important to appear confident even as he wished Yuuri would hurry up.

The feeling of unease ascended into full blown caution when they got outside and Yuuko and Toshiro were gone. They would never have left on their own.

“Move.” Viktor said low, and they sped up.

“I hate running.” Phichit complained as they descended the steps into the desire room.

“We are exposed here. When you are in enemy territory your pride can take a back seat to survival.” Viktor lectured briefly. Yuuri said nothing, but Phichit kept pace with him as Viktor brought up the rear, glancing behind them over and dialling Yuuko’s number.

“Where are you?” she asked immediately and Viktor was so relieved to hear her agitation, because it meant she was alive.

“We’re coming out. Get the car ready.” He said, moving through the second set of doors.

“They got Akihito. Be quick.” Yuuko barked into the phone and hung up. Viktor put a hand to Yuuri’s back.

“Hurry.” He said upon contact.

Viktor felt the first bullet hit the centre of his back as they were halfway through the club, music still deafening and covering any gunshot sounds. The Kevlar he wore absorbed it, but he was still knocked forward into Yuuri’s back with the impact. When Phichit and Yuuri turned to him, he huffed. “They’re shooting. Get out.”

But there wasn’t time, Viktor felt a second shot go past his head and this time it was audible enough to alert the patrons. It started a scuffling panic of the kind when most of the people involved are too high or too drunk to react with any kind of sense. Viktor took advantage of the mild chaos to shift them all into a booth and catch his breath.

“Where are they?” Yuuri asked, eyes narrow and looking just past Viktor. He had pulled out his own gun and had it cocked and ready.

“Behind me, two degrees to the left if I’m any judge. There are other doors here.” Viktor told him, and Yuuri reached around his chest, arm coming up under his and firing once, twice. It caused more panic, and since no one could tell if he hit anyone, it was next to useless. But at least they knew he had a gun.

Viktor looked at Phichit. “Can you go around the sides and catch them close? I know you brought your guns.”

Phichit was caught between glee and worry over his master, and Viktor could see he was itching to go.

“I’ll get him to the door. Yuuko is outside.” Viktor assured him.

After a brief internal struggle, Phichit nodded and slithered over the back of the chair, his lithe little body bending and sliding with creepy grace. Viktor turned back to Yuuri.

“If you stay inside my space, I can get you to the door unscathed.”

Yuuri gave him an incredulous look. “And then what? You get shot three or four times in the process? Fool.”

Viktor hissed at him. “I’m doing my fucking job, which is keeping you alive. Besides, it’s me they wanted as blood debt.”

Yuuri’s face was pure fury. “Idiot. I am not useless.”

Viktor didn’t have time to argue. He grabbed Yuuri by his shoulders and as he reversed out back onto the floor, he shoved Yuuri against his chest. “Fine. You walk backwards and shoot from under my arms. Watch my back and I’ll watch yours.”

Yuuri was tense at first then immediately fell into odd step with Viktor, moving backwards as he moved forward. Yet, in spite of their height differences, they moved seamlessly.

Still, Yuuri complained.

“I can’t see past your shoulder.” He said, ducking his head down and trying to see underneath Viktor’s elbow instead.

“Not my fault you’re short.”

Yuuri growled and let off a round. “If you live I’m going to cut your feet off.”

“If I live you owe me a new suit.” Viktor retorted in his ear, his bullets finding another target. That made six so far. This had defintely been planned.

They were nearly at the door, when two successive shots hit him from behind again. He grunted and folded over, nearly dropping on Yuuri.

“ _Derr`mo_.” Viktor cursed breathlessly into Yuuri’s shoulder.

“ _Kuso_.” Echoed Yuuri, pushing his hands under Viktor arms to keep him from collapsing. “Stand up, you idiot, there are more coming.”

“Ah.” Viktor wheezed. “I cannot.”

Without waiting for an answer, he pushed them the last distance to the emergency exit and shoved Yuuri through it ingloriously, before grabbing the handle and slamming it closed.

“E _to piz`dets_.” He muttered before turning around and pulling out both guns from his gun sling and doing his job.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry......  
> next chapter is already being written I promise.
> 
> Derr' mo = Shit
> 
> Kuso = Fuck
> 
> Eto piz`dets = He's gonna be pissed.


	14. Of things Owed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor is alive, Yuuri is pissed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr is https://www.tumblr.com/dashboard

The blood had seeped out and made the entire side of Viktor’s suit red.

Even as he limped, clutching his side and withholding his grunts of pain at the movement, he couldn’t help but feel bitter about that. Another suit ruined. Granted, he had already lost the trench coat and the jacket that had completed the set, but it was custom made from a new fabric the tailor had persuaded him into, saying it complemented his longer figure.

 _You owe me a new suit, Yuuri_ , he complained in his head, even though he didn’t actually know if he might die before managing to get back to the Katsuki grounds.

It was well after midnight, and Viktor was far from the Hyena club, having finally lost his one tail and disposed of the other. Now he could feel his edges blurring with the combination of exhaustion and blood loss, and he knew he had to find safe haven or die inelegantly in this damp, smelly alleyway.

Limping out into the street, he leaned against a shadowed wall until he saw a taxi meandering his way. The driver was glad to pick up a customer, because late night fare was the most expensive, but his eagerness soon fell away when Viktor’s entry smeared a wide track of red onto his back seat. Before he could protest, a knife held with the point first was already inside the man’s ear and pressing lightly.

“Take me to Minako’s tea house, and don’t ask questions.” Viktor said in slurred Japanese. The man couldn’t nod, obviously, but he put the car in gear and began moving.

The tea house was, of course, open, and Viktor pushed himself inside, telling the doorman to pay the driver extra for the upholstery cleaning. Then he eased into a booth seat and waited.

He couldn’t close his eyes quite yet, but he wanted to, very badly. Minako found him soon after, looking pleased then shocked then annoyed. She rattled off some harsh Japanese at her doorman before helping Viktor up. He tried to tell her to be gentler, as every jerk and step made his side throb harder but he couldn’t get past gasping.

“It’s still bleeding.” Minako muttered as he collapsed on the couch in her office. “What caused it?”

“A bullet.” He gritted out.

After some more Japanese barked out, Minako helped him upright.

“Is the bullet out?” she asked him, already removing his shirt, which has ripped anyway.

“Very likely not.” He replied breathlessly. The edges of his vision were very blurred now. “I need water.”

“You need a doctor.” She snapped, but water came to his hand anyway. “Until then, you’re ruining my furniture. I thought Katsuki Yuuri took better care of his ring bearers than this.”

“Katsuki Yuuri probably expects me to look after myself. Or thinks I’m dead.” Viktor admitted, taking a small sip of water.

Minami looked surprised. “I’ll call him.”

Viktor caught her wrist and fixed her with a severe look. “No, give me the phone and I will call him.”

Minako was taken aback by his intensity then nodded, getting up and going for her phone. Viktor forced himself to focus enough to dial the number he had in his mind and put the phone to his ear with the arm that was a bruised mass of throbbing muscle. He could feel his eye starting to swell now, too.

It rang twice and was picked up. “Yes.” Yuuko’s voice snapped.

“Yuuko, so good to hear your angelic tones.” Viktor managed to wheeze out a laugh.

“Oh god, Viktor!” Yuuko cried, her voice immediately changing. “You’re alive. We’ve been searching for you-“

She was cut off and there was the sound of fumbling and scratching against the microphone, then a different voice came on.

“Viktor.” Yuuri’s voice said into the phone like a heartbeat; unrushed, unphased and firm. Viktor felt his breath whoosh out of him.

“Yuuri. I’m at Minako’s tea house.” He said, holding his own voice steady.

“We’ll be there in ten.” He answered curtly. “Are you going to die before we get there?”

“Well, there a lot of blood on the wrong side of my skin at the moment, but I think I’ll be fine.”

There was relative silence on the line, but Viktor could hear footsteps in the background, and the sound of doors being opened.

“Yuuri.” Viktor said.

“Hmm.” Yuuri hummed in response.

“You owe me a new suit,” Viktor said, chuckling slightly.

 He heard Yuuri sigh hard. “Give the phone to Minako.”

Viktor handed it over, then let his arm drop listlessly. It was getting quite hard now, to stay focused. He tried listing all the seven deadly sins.

His ears picked up the one-sided conversation Minako was having now. “Yes…a bullet, he says. No, of course, I don’t…I _wouldn’t_ Yuuri. Yes, alright.” Then she hung up, and turned her irritated expression on Viktor.

“Your master is on his way.”

 

-*-

 

When Yuuri arrived, Viktor was still awake, but only barely. Yuuri watched tight-lipped as Toshiro heaved him upright, and hustled him down the stairs and into the car.

Then he passed out. He was carried into the manor, unconscious. He was cleaned unconscious. The doctor said that he had lost a dangerous amount of blood and set up an IV for him in the small sterile room. It wasn’t uncommon for Katsuki to be attended and nursed under the manor’s roof.

Viktor woke briefly from the pain when the doctors set about digging the bullet out of his side, but was given morphine and collapsed again.

“It only just missed his kidney.” The doctor said, dropping the ball of metal into a steel pan “Must have slid just under the Kevlar.”

The kevlar vest he was no longer wearing.

Viktor had a cut over one eye and a heavy knock to the back of his head. Apart from the now gaping hole in his side, he had some bruises forming and a couple of bruised ribs. It was fairly average really, considering their line of work. Being shot, well, it was part of his job as a bodyguard. Even Phichit had had two bullets removed from his leg before.

They were shadow people, they got damaged.

But in the privacy of his bedroom, still dressed in his suit pants and shirt, sleeves rolled up carelessly, he kept remembering the timeless, endless space where he hadn’t known whether Viktor was alive or dead.

Whether he would be returned piece by piece from the Crocotura.

He sighed unsteadily and pushed a hand through his hair.

Yuuko and Toshiro had been led out under threat, but had managed to remove both the guns and the men holding them as they were led outside. But the exit they'd been led to was somewhere else and it had taken them time to find their way around to the front doors again, and that was when Viktor had called. He could only remember the feeling of Viktor shoving him roughly through the door and the crash as it was closed behind him, the blue eyes disappearing from view.

He could do nothing about it. Phichit had already come out, and he was being rushed to the Bugatti, passing the Fiat where Akihito was slumped over the steering wheel, his dead eyes wide.

In the time that it had taken for them to flee and arrive back at the Katsuki grounds, Yuuri had already made several phone calls, called in some favors and laid plans. He had seethed in his office, barking orders into the phone while Yuuko had taken Toshiro away to the medical room to bandage his own injuries.

Phichit had leaned up beside him, not quite touching, not quite looking.

“You’re alive. That’s what matters.”

Yuuri had forced himself through two exhalations before answering.

“We’re all alive, Phichit. Not just me. He saved your skin as well.”

Phichit flinched slightly. “I’ll go with you, to find him.”

Yuuri couldn’t spare a thought for the strange change in Phichit’s attitude towards the Russian just then.

He hated that his safety was first. He hated that he couldn’t go back for Viktor, who had been his only sparring partner in years, who knew him and protected him with his life.

 _His life_.

He hated the idea that Viktor's life was forfeit for his. When Jakub had suggested it, he had tamped down the fury, but still had only had enough self-control to say a simple ‘no’ before turning away.

And now, Viktor, apparently not so easy to kill, was lying in his sick room, unconscious but alive and Yuuri needed a drink to calm his hands.

 

-*-

 

Viktor woke up and saw white. As his eyes adjusted, he saw that it was because the room was mostly white, and not because he was blind. The walls, the floor, the bedding under which he lay were all purely blank.

Ah, he was in the medical room. To the right, a blurry figure moved and eventually his vision resolved to see the doctor, typing things into his computer.

“My head.” Viktor groaned. It was a spectacular kind of pain, and talking made it worse.

The doctor turned and got up to come towards him.

“Ah, he lives.” The man said mildly.

“Water. And pain pills.” Viktor croaked but the doctor shook his head.

“I don’t speak Russian, Mr Nikiforov. Can you try English?”

Viktor blinked and realized that he had somehow slipped into his native tongue. He struggled to gather his very woolly thoughts and tried again.

“Water.” He said in what he hoped was English and the doctor nodded.

“Good, you’re awake and alive and able to form a coherent thought. These are all good signs.”

Once Viktor had drunk some water, and some more when he washed down some tablets, he felt tired again and lay back.

“I’ll alert the boss.” He heard the doctor say before slipping away again.

 

-*-

 

This time, when Viktor awoke, it was faster, clearer, and with a huge warm weight on his chest.

He blinked first at the ceiling, then risked a look to whatever was making breathing difficult. He saw a soft brown furry head.

“Makkachin.” He said, though it came out as a whisper.

The hound, which had been asleep on his chest, was immediately awake and wasted no time on lavishing its very enthusiastic love on his master. Viktor laughed, and struggled to keep him calm, but luckily a hand came out and pulled the animal back slightly.

“Calm, or heel. Whatever.” Phichit voice said. Makkachin only turned his excited licking towards him and Phichit made a disgusted noise, clearly not enjoying the attention.

“Makkachin.” Yuuri’s voice spoke from his left. “Sit.”

Even though Makkachin’s excitement was clear, he obeyed, though his tail still wagged so hard his butt swayed, and laid his heavy head on Viktor’s chest. Viktor patted him with a hand that felt filled with liquid, then looked up at his visitors.

Phichit was glaring as usual, though now he shared his ire with the dog while he wiped at his face. Yuuri sat calmly in a seat by the door of the room, face as expressionless as the first time they’d met.

“I’m touched.” Viktor managed to say sardonically even though his voice still needed practice.

Phichit made a second disgusted noise. “I only came to see you weren’t dead.” He spat, before turning on his heel and leaving. Viktor shrugged, or tried to, but when he did, the pain in his side screamed and he stopped, stifling a groan.

“You stitches. Don’t rip them out.” The doctor was at his side in a moment. “I have some more morphine for you?”

Viktor shook his head after a moment. “No, for now, I’ll be careful. The head ache is gone.”

“Still, keep drinking.” The doctor said, handing him a glass, accustomed to patients who refused pain medication.

Viktor drank more deeply this time, rubbing Makkachin’s head and avoiding Yuuri’s eyes.

“Was he your idea?” he asked.

“Yes. But he will have to go back soon. My mother misses him.”

Viktor smiled and curled his fingers into the dog’s thick coat. Makkachin took this as an invitation and rolled ono his back for belly rubs, completely uncaring that he was an enormous animal and took up most of the bed. Viktor obliged. He had missed his companion.

“Thank you. It was a good way to wake up. Even Phichit’s worried little scowl is pleasantly familiar.”

Viktor dared a look at his employer, to see if he had earned a smile, but was stopped short. Yuuri’s face was stormy, clouded and angry. No, _furious_. Viktor let his hand still, unsure of what he had done.

“Doctor.” Yuuri said simply, and soon they were left alone, with the door closed behind him.

“I was doing my job.” Viktor spoke first.

“You forced my hand. You didn’t have to be left there.” Yuri replied, sternly.

“Actually, that’s exactly what had to be done. You hired me to protect you, and that’s what I did.” Viktor retorted, knowing he was in the right.

“You treated me like a child. I am your superior, and you should have listened to me.” Yuuri said, his left hand clenching.

“Your hurt pride is a small sacrifice for your life.” Viktor said laconically.

“And yours? What about _your_ life?”

Viktor blinked. “My life is forfeit for yours. Isn’t that what ‘this’ means?” Viktor held up the hand that held the ring. It was already scuffed and scratched, but still gold.

Yuuri glared at him, his shoulder becoming stiff. “Report.”

Viktor lowered his hand and ignored the twinge in his side. “I couldn’t see well in the gloom, but I managed to escape via another fire door. They followed me. I killed all but one, and hid until it was safe enough to go to Minako’s.”

“You walked the four miles away from the club.”

“I walked _two_ miles and took a taxi.”

“While bleeding to death.”

“Yes,” Viktor acknowledged. “Speaking of, you owe me a new suit. Perhaps two? And a new vest, the other has holes in it.”

The bruising on Viktor’s chest and back was testament to just how many holes it had.

Yuuri stood abruptly, hand opening and closing impotently and looking like he wanted to add another bruise to Viktor’s list.

“There was nothing else we could have done, Yuuri.” Viktor said, seeing his anger and unsure of its reason. “You know it too. Jakub had it planned from the start, if you weren’t going to hand me over.”

“I thought he had taken you anyway, you stupid silvered Russian!” Yuuri spat.

Viktor was surprised. “What? Why? I have no desire to die.”

Yuuri pushed a hand through his hair, mussing it and visibly sought to control himself. They stood that way for a long time, Viktor watching his boss, his friend, and Yuuri clutching at his hair with eyes closed, breathing through flared nostrils.

“I did not know if you would return.” Yuuri said eventually. Makkachin whined.

Viktor dug his fingers into his thick fur and swallowed. “I did. I’m here.”

Yuuri seemed to unfreeze then, and moved to Viktor’s side in a smooth quick movement. Without warning Viktor felt a hand against his face and Yuuri’s cheek meet with his as he leaned close to Viktor’s ear.

“We cannot speak of this now. But I am extremely glad you are alive and you are here, Viktor.”

Viktor breathed out a hard breath as his chest constricted, but that was all the reaction he was allowed to have, because in the next moment Yuuri was gone.

 

-*-

 

 It took Viktor a few more days to be ‘up and running’, as it were. He was in his own rooms as soon as the doctor took out the IV with the agreement that he would check in for his shots and wouldn’t play the hero if he needed help. However, Viktor was more than capable of dealing with pain, and wounds. Even though the angle was awkward, he could clean it well enough on his own.

By second day, he was taking Makkachin to explore the manor, as the dog was showing typical doggy enthusiasm for new places, smells and people. Phichit was unexpectedly curious about him, and after two days had passed, was content to let Makkachin lick his hand. 

“Don’t feed him too many treats, or he’ll get fat.” Viktor warned when Phichit gave him pieces of sandwich from his plate.

“I’ll take him out for a run then.” Phichit said, and set about the task immediately. Viktor didn’t know how to feel about Pichit taking to his dog and visa versa, so he didn’t think about it.

Viktor would have to avoid the training room for a time, since his stiches were still hard and the tissue still knitting back together. It was a ghastly thing to look at, but ultimately, just another to add to the collection.

Viktor’s hair was getting a little long, so he went to the barber to have it cut, and by the time he returned his face was pale and waxy from the pain involved with driving. But by the next day, he was stronger and surer. So he healed fast and Yuuko gave him a hug to indicate show was glad he was alive while the other men teased him about getting shot in such an obvious place. Business went on as usual.

By the third day Viktor was called into a meeting with Yuuri, Phichit and some other more sober members of the clan to discuss repercussions, and found Makkachin already sleeping beneath Yuuri’s chair. He smirked but said nothing as he settled himself down.

It was a heavy discussion. To attack Yuuri and his associates at a parley was considered very bad from, and then to attempt to kill him, and his bodyguards was worse. Obviously Jakub had no intention of taking Yuuri’s offer and backing down, although his plan to simply remove Yuuri had failed and he was likely reconsidering his options now.

Teams were set in place to take the Crocotura down piecemeal, starting at its further outposts and working its way towards the middle, the club. Viktor, alas was not included on any of these teams, but he didn’t have any desire for revenge. He had done his job and come out alive to fight another day. He simply went where he was directed, and was happy to do so.

Yuuri was leaning over his desk, pointing at maps and indicating with a white hand to Christophe for something. As he spoke, issuing out his plans and listening to input from men, Viktor was content to enjoy the view. Yuuri had shucked his jacket and was wearing a waistcoat, this one in embossed black damask. His words were clean and certain things, and Viktor once again felt that familiar warmth, pride and devotion when watching Yuuri at his helm, speaking down from his throne. It wasn’t that Viktor hadn’t seen this before. He had worked under Yaakov for years and he knew what a king’s speech sounded like, he was familiar with men who could command a room with their presence alone. But Yuuri was…

It was because had come to mean more to him than simply his employer. He was his sparring partner, his friend, and also to object of his infatuation and that made everything seem _more_ , and everyone else seem _less_.

Since their moment in the sick room, Viktor had been turning many things over in his mind. Caution was still there, looming and dark, but far brighter in front of him, stood Yuuri, like a flame that didn’t die and was beckoning him closer.

Viktor knew he was done for.

 

-*-

 

It was 2; 45 AM when Viktor received a brief text.

_Do you know how to get to my private rooms?_

Viktor had seen the place where Yuuri slept, a small partially separated building that resembled the bath house facing a wide garden. He could most certainly find it.

 _I’ll have my sniffer dog show me the way._ He replied, even though Makkachin had been returned to his mother the day before.

There was no reply from that, but Viktor ignored the ache in his side and levered himself up, changing only into a pair of comfortable gym pants and grey shirt before leaving his room. He found his way there, slowly, making sure he was going the right way and also looking for any eyes that might see. The sentries were unavoidable, but they knew him and knew his kept odd hours and didn’t bat an eye.

The garden was chilly, the weather in Hasetsu changing and making the nights crisp. Viktor hardly minded it, coming from a cold country himself, and didn’t mind walking barefoot across the grass either. He stepped up the door and after a brief debate, slid the door open and let himself inside without waiting.

He didn’t have to look hard. The layout of the small house was simple, loft like. There was a central space recessed into the floor and all rooms led off from it, so it was that when Viktor stepped in, he immediately saw Yuuri in the kitchen, which was opposite the door.

Yuuri turned to see him, blinking slowly from behind his glasses and Viktor swallowed.

“The king called for his servant. I hear and obey.” Viktor quipped, taking long strides across the floor to where his friend waited. For tonight Yuuri was just Yuuri, and he was just Viktor and when Yuuri wore glasses they could simply be two men, who didn’t always have blood beneath their fingernails.

Yuuri grimaced at the jibe. “Do you want coffee?”

“Do you have tea?” Viktor said, coming up beside the shorter man and leaning against the counter. He wasn’t interested in the house at all, only Yuuri.

Yuuri sighed and leaned to the left, opening a cupboard and Viktor watched his shirt ride up enough to reveal a patch of skin. It shouldn't have lit his attention like a firework, but it had and now Viktor couldn’t stop thinking about it and Yuuri and Yuuri wearing glasses and Yuuri calling for him in the middle of the night.

And the kiss.

Yuuri came back and held the box of tea at eye level, looking sceptical. “I have no idea when this expired.”

“I thought your glasses helped you see better.” Viktor teased, and chuckled when Yuuri dropped the box in a bin beneath the counter. “I’ll have water.”

Yuuri reached into a cupboard once again, and brought down a glass for Viktor, who took it and filled it from the sink while Yuuri completed his coffee neatly, putting the spoon in a dishwasher and leaning against the counter as well. The two of them drank in silence, and Viktor enjoyed the feeling. The quiet of the space, the proximity, the odd little electric tension and the questions burning on his tongue.

“Min-so came back with a hyena today.” Yuuri told him quietly. “It hasn’t barked yet.”

“Would it have anything to say?” Viktor replied. “Isn’t the point simply to remove them and have done?”

“A message must be delivered. We need more information about Jakub’s entire operation. I don’t want to leave anything out. At worst, she can be a good warning.”

Viktor nodded. “Are you wary of what this may cause with his connection in Czech?”

Yuuri sighed and pushed his glasses up his nose. “As it happens I already spoke with his brother, who runs their operation there. He agrees a lesson must learned and apologises on his behalf. Jakub is out in the cold.” Yuuri indicated an odd statue set on the floor near the door. “He also sent that. Though I’m unsure why.”

Viktor looked closer in the gloom, since the only light was in the kitchen. Eventually he made out a figure of a hyena, much like the one he had seen in Jakub’s waiting room.

“That’s ugly.” Viktor stated and Yuuri nodded in agreement.

“I’m still considering what to do with it.”

Viktor canted his head thoughtfully.

“We should paint it gold and set it as a gargoyle at the estate gates.”

“Maybe a scarecrow for my mother’s vegetable garden.”

They shared a short chuckle and lapsed once again into silence. Eventually, Yuuri set down his coffee cup and turned to Viktor.

“I must speak with you, and not about hyenas and scarecrows.” He said his eyes clear and fierce. Viktor set down his own cup and angled himself in a mirror image to the smaller man.

“I…” Yuuri started and stopped. Viktor so badly wanted to break in and say something, anything, but he waited on his friend as he grappled for words. “What happened before. When we were sparring.”

Yuuri couldn’t even say it. Viktor felt his heart drop and disappointment wash over him.

“Yuuri, it doesn’t have to be anything. You do not want this, and I am content to simply be your employee. It doesn’t…it doesn’t have to complicated things. I won’t shame you.”

Yuuri looked at him, mouth open and frowning. “Shame me?”

Viktor shrugged, looking down and away. “I would never tell anyone. I am devoted to you, and I know you have a...courtesan who has been at your side since your teens...”

Yuuri was still, and Viktor observed his bare feet against the wooden floor of the kitchen.

“Viktor, no, you misunderstand.” Yuuri said eventually, once again leaning his back against the counter top and folding his arms. “I haven’t…ever…”

“Kissed a man?” Viktor finished for him.

Yuuri huffed a laugh. “No. I’ve barely kissed women. My father…I had to do as he wished while he was alive, and when he died, it was easier to carry on that way. I have never engaged in any kind of activity in that way, in spite of Minako’s offers.”

Viktor nodded once. “It’s alright. Sometimes, these things can happen. It doesn’t mean you’re weak, or that you like men.”

Yuuri stilled, and looked at Viktor. “Viktor…you idiot.” He laughed again, and it was light. “I am trying to explain to you that I _do_ prefer men. I always have.”

Viktor felt the word around him shift again, like it had that night in the kitchen. The way in which everything changed completely while still looking exactly the same.

“If my father had known,” Yuuri went on, pushing his glasses up his nose then gesturing with the same hand. “He would have disciplined me, probably in the same way he did to Phichit. I had to please him, and then, even without him to hide from it was easier to carry on as if it was the case. I am a private person, everyone knows this. And it only benefits my reputation if people perceive me as reclusive and exclusionary when it comes to partners.”

He cleared his throat. “I have a courtesan, who lives on the property. She is owned by me as a gift from my father, and her presence is useful as a not very well kept secret.”

Viktor pushed hair away from his eyes absently, and it swung back.

“I am trying to tell you that when I kissed you, I wanted to.” Yuuri eventually added.

Viktor reminded himself to breathe.

“But, I don’t want anything from you that you are not willing to give. When you say you are devoted to me, it makes me think that if I asked anything of you it wouldn’t be genuine. If you do not want…whatever this is, I would prefer you tell me.”

Viktor gasped softly. “Why wouldn’t I want this from you?”

Yuuri still didn’t meet his eyes.

“Because I am your employer. Because you didn’t return the kiss.”

Viktor closed his eyes and put a hand over his mouth, still trying to ground himself in reality, to know this that was happening and not a fantasy.

“Yuuri…yes. I would…ah, I am not normally so confused.” Viktor laughed despairingly at himself. “I have been trying, very hard, for months to keep my admiration for you distant. To keep things between us the way you wanted them, as employee and employer. But I tell you honestly Yuuri, if you were to tell me you want me, I would never say no.”

Yuuri frowned. “That is not what I want to hear.”

“What do you want to hear? That it had nothing to do with your status or mine?” Viktor said.  In a bold move, he stepped in front of Yuuri and met his frown with a clear, open face. “Here, it just you and I, Yuuri. You are not the Serpent and I am not Silver. And I still say ‘yes’ if that’s what you want. I thought...I thought…I wasn’t sure. I would never ask you for something so...unreal.”

He pleaded with his eyes, knowing that it was Yuuri who would have to make the final move in this game, because it was Yuuri who had the most to lose.

“Do you wish you had never met me?” Viktor asked.

“Sometimes.” Yuuri replied and close the distance.

This time Viktor kissed back.

It started softly, but without inhibitions and misunderstandings to hold them back, it didn’t stay that way. It was hunger and lust and teeth and tongue. Yuuri had grabbed at Viktor's shirt to drag him down, and Viktor smiled into his mouth, because Yuuri wouldn’t bend for anyone, not even for this kiss.

“We need to think.” Yuuri said as he bit at Viktor’s jaw and ran a hand underneath his shirt.

“My brain is not present at the moment.” Viktor admitted, enjoying the feeling Yuuri’s fingers against his skin, and allowing himself to touch the hips that pressed against him. He bit his lip, trying to regain control, but Yuuri wouldn’t let him.

“Yuuri…” Viktor murmured against his neck.

“Hmm.” Yuuri replied and bit hard into the skin over Viktor’s collar bone.

Without intending it, Viktor lifted Yuuri onto the counter top behind them, but couldn’t stop a cry escaping his mouth. He clutched at his side, and the moment served as effectively as a cold shower.

They broke apart from each other panting and Yuuri pushed a hand through his hair, destroying it further and Viktor almost kissed him again.

“I've been wanting to kiss you every day for the last 5 months.” Viktor admitted.

Yuuri’s expression went from shocked to sly. “Well, your self-control does you credit.” He hopped down from the counter and lifted Viktor’s shirt, his face all lust and concern. “Good, you didn’t open it. You need to be more careful.”

Viktor couldn’t help himself, he took advantage of Yuuri closeness and kissed his neck again.

“We need to think Viktor.” Yuuri admonished him but he let it happen anyway.

“Yes.” Viktor acknowledged and pulled away reluctantly. Yuuri was already swiping a thumb against his mouth, while staring at Viktor. The movement became thoughtful.

“I’ll think tomorrow.” Yuuri said, pulling Viktor towards him once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes yes i know, not enough violence. not enough kissing.  
> stay tuned.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of POV change here, I hope it isn't too confusing.  
> 

“Phichit, you have no patience.” Viktor admonished.

Phichit turned to look at Viktor over his shoulder. “Dancey prancey Russian, you are very slow for someone with quick feet.”

Viktor wasn’t one to push, but his molasses quick patience with Phichit seemed to be bearing fruit. Phichit was still as likely to hiss at him as ignore him, but they had progressed to conversation in the form of barbed banter.

Viktor indicated to his black cotton shirt and pants. “I had to change.”

“How do I say it in English…?” Phichit mused, tapped a knife against his chin and leaving little bloody marks. “Ah yes, ‘ _prissy_.’”

Viktor waved a hand in dismissal and moved to join him and the currently unconscious figure tied to a chair. Then he paused and eyes narrowed.

“Phichit, is that my knife?” Viktor asked with deliberate slowness.

Pichit shrugged, but there was a devilish gleam in his eye. “You said I could choose.”

Viktor folded his arms, ignoring the small whimpers from beside him. “Only if you beat me at a ten knife juggle. You have managed nine, young man.”

Phichit bristled. “I had ten in the air before they fell, _old man_.”

“You know as well as I do, that it didn’t count.” Viktor held out his hand. “Return it to me.”

After a glowering moment between them, Pichit handed the knife back and Viktor wiped it on his shirt.

“Ugh, I wish you wouldn’t treat my things the way you treat yours. You’re always so messy.”

“Blood is messy.” Pichit retorted.

“ _You_ are messy.” Viktor reiterated. “And besides, when you finally keep ten knives in the air for at least the duration of one of my songs, I have a special prize for you. So stop taking what you haven’t earned.”

Phichit looked about ready to murder and lashed out with a wide slash at their prisoner, making his head snap to the side and forcing him to spit out some blood and teeth.

Viktor pointed. “See? Messy.”

 

-*-

 

It was Viktor's first returnto the mats and Yuuko was looking like she might have a little too much fun with it.

Still, Viktor stretched himself to his full length before settling back into a loose stance to face her.

“I won’t take it easy on you.” Yuuko told him.

“I will do the same for you.” Viktor replied sagely.

With a bark of a laugh, she came at him, setting an immediate and harsh pace, Yuuko always did things this way; fast, calculated and with the express purpose of ending a fight as soon as possible. The reason she sometimes found Viktor annoying was that he deliberately prolonged their sparring, which tired her out. But now, after his short convalescence and his wound still healing, it was a different matter, and he could see Yuuko had no qualms about taking advantage of that fact.

With a grunt, he caught her outflung leg which had been aiming for his still livid scar, and he almost regretted returning so soon. Maybe a few more days in the gym would have been wiser.

But Viktor had seen the far door open and small, cigar smoking figure come into the room, and stop at the far end of the practice mats. He knew he was being watched; his skin knew it, and the knowledge pumped extra vigor into his body and he traded jabs with Yuuko.

He knew though, he would have to end it quickly, or he would be too burned out to do so later. Avoiding her fist with a deft switching of feet, he spun around to her rear and knocked her flat. When she tried to buck away, he straddled her easily, and casually folded his arms over her small head.

“Ugh. You are such a show-man!” she cursed him and he chuckled.

“You must admit it too Yuuko, that you only wanted to spar today for the pleasure of beating me. I had to put on a show.”

She smacked her hand on the plastic to show she gave up and Viktor released her, then offered a hand to help her up. A small movement from the corner of the room caught his eye, and he bowed to her.

“I am called.”

“I’ll have you one day, Viktor.” Yuuko grumped, stretching out her shoulder and stalking off to find a new partner.

“It sounds exciting.” He responded as he picked up his shirt and went to follow Yuuri and Pichit out of the room. He caught up with them as they rounded the corner of the corridor, where the kitchen was situated. Yuuri spoke as he walked, not looking behind him for Viktor’s approach.

“Since you no longer in convalescence, you can choose to join the team heading out tonight.” He said, after drawing on the cigar.

Phichit shot him a dirty look. “Or you can keep on sleeping like an invalid.”

They all knew very well that Viktor had been keeping up his strength in the gym but Phichit liked to be a bitch about it.

“I thought you were meeting with Otabek Altin today?” Viktor said, wiping his perspiring face with the hem of his shirt.

Yuuri waved a careless hand. “As I said, your choice. I can use you in either case.”

“Is it the last of the Crocotura harbor posts?”

“Hmm.” Was Yuuri’s brief reply.

Viktor considered as they walked then turned to Phichit. “Who’s been setting the fires?”

In their systemic eradication of the Crocotura, there had been a few suspicious fires in the aftermath. Phichit tried for innocence and fell short by a mile.

“Why do you assume it’s me?” he said, looking away.

 _Because you’re crazy and you confuse pain with play_ , Viktor thought to himself.

“I’m asking because I do not feel like washing ash out of my clothes and hair for days.”

“Why not? It _matches_.” Pichit retorted viciously.

“Viktor.” Yuuri interrupted. “Make a choice, meet at the right time. Until then, go and train, your speed is shocking.”

They left Viktor standing in the hallway, while Phichit stuck his tongue at him over his retreating shoulder.

 

-*-

 

 _The mats, ten minutes. I wasn’t joking about your speed_. The text read at 3:38 AM. Since Viktor had been waiting for it, he got there in five.

He and Yuuri started with the staffs this time, because it was slow and disciplined and allowed their muscles to work up a sweat without pushing them too hard.  Then Yuuri demanded they go back to basic ginga.

“I am not an invalid.” Viktor sighed at him. “I’ve been shot before.”

“I saw you today with Yuuko. You think it was coincidence I summoned you? A few more minutes and your unbeaten record would have been a memory only.”

“I’m here with you now aren’t I? Have I lost yet?”

Yuuri made a quick swipe and pulled Viktor’s arm up his back.

“See?” Yuuri told him.

“I let you.” Viktor laughed and flipped himself out of the hold easily. “Seems we are both still unbeaten.”

And so followed a series of attempts to dominate the other, where Viktor would pretend defeat until he slithered out of it at the last moment, and Yuuri would allow Viktor only a glimmer of dominance before returning his blows without mercy.

“You shouldn’t let me beat you.” Yuuri told him.

“I haven’t,” Viktor replied. “But if I do, will you kiss me again?”

Imitating a favored move of Viktor’s, Yuuri slung his leg over Viktor neck and threw him to the ground, before kneeling on his chest. But the movement was sloppy and Viktor was smiling even as he fell.

“I can kiss you whenever I please.” Yuuri said.

“Yes, you can.” Viktor agreed.

Yuuri did kiss him then, becoming far bolder the first time they had been there, but ended it quickly, mindful that even though they were alone, anyone could arrive. He helped the Russian up from the floor, and if their hands lingered too long in each other’s, no one saw.

 

-*-

 

Otabek Altin was another of the Katsuki ‘partners’ specializing in information. Particularly, the kind of information usually only available to government and police. Yuuri had tried introducing him to Christophe, but the moody Kazakh man had very quickly declined. He had his own web that he used, and while he was content to exchange information using technology, he had no inclination to socialize. Yuuri appreciated the man because they were similar in the sense that they had no excess; they did their business and kept it running as smoothly as possible, without extra clutter. Altin was not often in Japan, but when he was he was required to meet with Yuuri.

His services included providing a nearly completely unhindered stream of information about the local government, police force and other branches of law, and in return, he paid Altin with a combination of favors and money. Working with Altin was always a pleasure, because he wasted no time and was always to the point.

“Apart from his inexpert attempts at starting up here, Jakub was working under orders.” Otabek said to Yuuri without looking at him. They were at a beachside café, with two identical black coffee steaming beside them. Viktor was at a distance away, leaning against the pier railing and staring at the ocean.

“His brother promised me that he had nothing to do with Jakub’s enterprising,” Yuuri replied, glancing at the man. He wore dark clothes and glasses and moved so little he might have been asleep.

“Not his brother.” Otabek corrected and took a sip of the bitter black liquid. “Yaakov.”

Yuuri felt a stirring of alarm but didn’t let it show. He knew better than to question Altin’s Intel, but the information was not pleasant.

What would Yaakov be doing setting a careless, messy creature like Jakub loose in _his_ back garden? Then something clicked.

Jakub had wanted Viktor. He had said so outright, though under the pretense of Yuuri owing him a life.

“Why?” Yuuri asked.

“I do not know. Ask your man.” Altin replied, indicating Viktor with a jerk of his chin.

Otabek got up to leave, abrupt as he was concise. “I will send your odd Swiss technician the other information tomorrow.”

Yuuri only nodded as he walked away, and Viktor approached to take the seat he left.

“That was brief.”

“Hmm.” Yuuri said thoughtfully, watching the waves of the ocean come in and retreat again.

Viktor knew better than to ask questions, so they sat in companionable silence for a time, before leaving, coffee still undrunk.

 

-*-

 

Viktor was invited once again in the small hours, to Yuuri’s private rooms. When he let himself in, he found Yuuri seated on a couch in the recessed center of the house, nursing a glass of something amber colored. Viktor stepped down and came around to face Yuuri.

Yuuri was not only thoughtful now. Something Altin had told him had made him retreat, and Viktor could sense it immediately. Now, when they could be themselves without their masks, it would come out.

“Yuuri.” Viktor said in quiet question.

Yuri leveled an assessing look at the Russian, not cold but distant.

“You told me that the reason you were thrown out of Yaakov’s service, was because he found out about your preferences.”

Viktor nodded a slow yes, the sank down to fold his legs beneath him on the floor.

“Is this true?”

Viktor didn’t hide his shock. “You are asking me if I lied to you.”

Yuuri’s hand curled around the tumbler. “No, I…I believe you. But today I was told that the reason Jakub tried to bargain for you was that he was told to. By Yaakov. And this makes no sense to me.”

It barely made sense to Viktor. After a considering pause, he said; “They beat me until I was almost dead. Then they threw me into the snow and spat on my near corpse. Yaakov himself told me that all the years I had served for him were worth little more than bird shit.”

Viktor spoke the words blandly and without pretense; it was merely facts. He had already left it behind. Yuuri met his eyes without sympathy because it had no place.

“Will you tell me?”

Viktor shrugged. “It is barely worth telling. I had kept my sexuality secret, but I hadn’t completely abstained. Over the years I had one, maybe two partners who were little more than men who would leave the next day or week. One day I was careless and my protégée saw me with someone and ran straight to Yaakov. It was a stupid slip up. That is all.”

Yuuri was still looking pensive so Viktor stated simply. “If it hadn’t happened I wouldn’t be here.”

The Japanese man nodded, rubbing at his face and pushing his glasses up to his head in the process. It caught in the thick, dark hair and sat. “Then why does he still seek you out?”

Viktor had no answer to that. “I cannot say. Perhaps he has heard that I am Katsuki now, and dislikes the idea.”

Yuuri set the drink aside and fell forward with elbows on knees, meeting Viktor’s eyes. “I am sorry for doubting you.”

Viktor couldn’t help but smile a little. “I am glad you gave me the chance to exonerate myself.”

“I could hardly do otherwise.” Yuuri replied and Viktor stood again, making his way closer. Yuuri head followed him up and he fell back against the couch.

“You could have. You could have been a lot less kind.” Viktor said as he leaned over Yuuri face, hair swinging down. Viktor was still somewhat awed that Yuri not only wanted him, but trusted him.

Yuuri frowned. “I am not kind.”

“Very well, you are not kind,” Viktor said, uncaring about kindness or its opposite in that moment and letting his mouth close over Yuuri’s.

Attraction was a like an ember, and when encouraged, fanned into burning flame. It took almost no time at all for Yuuri to pull at Viktor’s shoulders and force him onto the couch beside him, before vaulting his legs over so that they straddled. Yuuri kissed like he was starving, and Viktor was the meal.

For all that Viktor was the more educated of the two, it still made him dizzy.

“You say you have never kissed a man, but I want to call you a lair.” Viktor breathed when Yuuri worked his way down Viktor’s neck.

“I am not ignorant, only inexperienced.” Yuuri replied huskily and dragging Viktor’s shirt up over his head. He paused a moment to admire Viktor’s muscular form the way he couldn’t in public and Viktor felt set alight by it. “Though I will admit, I know very little.”

“So what do you know?” Viktor answered, letting his own hand slide up Yuuri’s thighs and under his sleep shirt. The skin there was hot and velvety and Viktor wanted to bite it.

Yuuri’s breath hitched ever so slightly but his gaze remained lofty. “I only know what I’ve always wanted to do.”

Viktor leaned closer so he could whisper in Yuuri’s ear. “And what have you always wanted to do?”

There was a soft, vibrating sound inside Yuuri’s throat and Viktor found his hands and held them on either side of Viktor head, pressing them into the couch. “To be in control. To touch as I want to,”

Yuuri hitched his hips forward until their crotches were flush making Viktor gasped through a smile.

“To _feel_ as I want to,” Yuuri said as he rolled his hips forward and ground against Viktor already present erection.

“Mmn.” Viktor bit out. “You wish to dominate.”

Yuuri paused for a brief moment, though his face was flushed. “I think...I’m not sure. But I don’t know enough about this to be any kind of master in it. You will have to teach me.”

Viktor huffed out a laugh. “That should be interesting. How can I teach you when you want to be in control?”

Yuuri leaned down and crushed his mouth with a kiss, making Viktor forget the conversation and follow Yuuri’s mouth as he pulled away.

“You haven’t disappointed me yet, Viktor.”

Viktor’s eyes were close in sensation, the feeling of being held down lightly but firmly, the weight of Yuuri over his legs and the urge to thrust upwards all making a very heady experience. Without removing his arms from Yuuri’s grasp, he pushed his hips upwards slightly, making his hardness obvious and touching Yuuri’s own. Since they were both wearing loose cotton, it was easy the feel the length, but with the frustration of being denied contact.

“ _That_.” Viktor sighed. “That is good.”

Yuuri rolled his hips forward again and Viktor gasped louder this time. “Like that?” Yuuri asked, eyes glinting with both curiosity and evil delight.

“Yes.”

Yuuri did it again and this time Viktor couldn’t stop his hips from bucking forward.

“It’s usually better without clothes on.” Viktor said to him, knowing it was maybe asking too much but asking it anyway.

 

-*-

 

It was the heavy-lidded look in Viktor’s face that urged Yuuri on. The thought that he could do this, that he was the one who made Viktor’s mouth wet and wishing for more. That Yuuri, who had never even touched another man this way, was making Viktor huff his breath and surge towards him uncontrollably.

Yuuri’s hands pushed him harder into the soft upholstery and he ground down with more determination, eyes watching Viktor face.

“I like watching you.” He admitted with a rough breath.

Viktor could only groan in response.

“I want to feel you.” Yuuri said, and he released one hand so that he could unfold himself from his pants. Viktor did the same, lifting up his hips, and also Yuuri, in order to shuck his cotton trousers. When Yuuri raised an eyebrow Viktor smirked.

“You’re light.” He baited, so Yuuri found his wrist again and put it back in its place.

Their lengths rubbed against each other now and Yuuri pushed closer, harder into Viktor, as if he could make their hip bones grind. It was glorious, and already slick. Yuuri watched first Viktor’s flushed face, his hair a mess and Viktor swollen cock, which was uncut and a delicate shade of pink. Unthinking, he let go of the hand he had been keeping prisoner and drifted his fingers across the darker, more wiry pubic hair at its base. He had never seen another man’s cock before, let alone been close enough to touch it.

“Like this.” Viktor huffed and took both their hands to wrap around their lengths together. The pressure was amazing and Yuuri let his head fall against Viktor’s neck as Viktor started a slow rhythm with their combined hands.  As the pressure built, he opened his mouth and bit at Viktor's shoulder, loving how he tasted, loving their combined musky scent. Viktor’s mouth found his and they shared a sloppy kiss, which degenerated until they were simply breathing into each other mouths.

Yuuri came first, keeping his cries silent and burying his face in Viktor’s neck as he did. Viktor came soon after and he guided them both through the aftershocks of climax, shuddering beneath him.

It had never felt that way with Jun-lee. Unsurprising, since Yuuri usually preferred not to touch and Jun-lee was a _woman_.

When Yuuri pulled himself away from Viktor’s chest, he glanced at the mess between them. Viktor held up his hand and looked at the cum spattered there, and Yuuri wasn’t sure if he should feel guilty about losing control and letting Viktor do all the work.

But Viktor only smiled at him, face pink and eyes hazy.

“We’re going to need some things.”

 

-*-

 

A week later, the last of the Crocotura, and those who hadn’t had the cowardice or foresight to escape while they could were huddled up inside Jakub’s club while Yuuri came towards it, face impassive, even bored.

The club was an abandoned shell, and looked (and these sorts of places do in the harsh light of day) depressing. What had seemed a pit of sin for the night people was simply a low ceilinged room, with a dirty linoleum flooring and empty booths. There was evidence of ‘scuffle’ as Viktor took in the places where chunks of cheap plaster had been blasted off the walls by errant bullets. And here and there, a body, an artistic spatter of blood. Viktor picked at a hole in the pleather upholstery, observing the stains in the off-white colouring. Had this place ever been cleaned?

“If I ever owned a club, I would do better than this.” Viktor said musing. “This place is filthy. I’ll need a bath just after walking through here.”

“I doubt he had cleaning on his mind at the time.” Yuuko said at his side.

“Come.” Yuuri called and they followed him through the leading door.

The desire room was no better, although there were no naked dead bodies, thank goodness. In fact, it seemed as if the room had be unoccupied when the Katsuki had whirled through there earlier, there was very little damage at all. All the toys and paraphernalia were hung in there proper places on red walls and in glass-topped tables, still waiting for use.

“Look!” Yuuko called. When Viktor turned to her, he managed to cover his laugh with a cough.

Yuuko had found a strap on, the enormous black silicone cock jutting out from her hips proudly and she deliberately pushed her hips forward. It wobbled ridiculously and Viktor covered his snort of laughed with his hand.

“I didn’t know you liked to switch roles.” Viktor said eventually laughing.

Yuuko tapped the end of the dildo. “Well, my toys are better quality than this one, definitely. But yes, Toshiro and I like to play.” She added with a devilish little glint.

“That must make date night all kinds of fun.” Viktor told her as she removed the straps and dropped the thing on the floor.

“Oh it does. You should join us sometime.”

Viktor laughed again. “I will politely decline. Toshiro is frightening and he would crush me.”

“A plan could be made.” She replied waggling her eyebrows lewdly and making Viktor laugh again.

“I can’t even believe what I’m hearing.” Phichit said in a disgusted voice from the other side of the room. Yuuri was leaning down slightly, letting Phichit light his cigar. “You are both disturbed.”

“In the best way.” Yuuko shot back.

Viktor wandered a little further into the room, stopping at one of the glass-topped cabinets. Reaching under the lid, he pulled out a leather collar, set with a ring in the front. It was frayed at the edges, betraying its inferior quality, but he observed it thoughtfully.

Ghosting up beside him in a pinstriped black suit, Yuuri arrived in smoke. He looked at the object in Viktor’s hand for a moment, then reached into the cabinet himself and pulled out its matching chain.

There was a look shared that Viktor could feel in his bones, and left him a little flushed.

Then Yuuri dropped the chain with a metallic, slithery sound and walked to the staircase, his entourage following.

 

-*-

 

Yuuri found it satisfying, to sit on the same seat he’d had the last time he’d been in Jakub’s tasteless office, with Jakub kneeling and cuffed at his feet. He almost smiled. Instead, he pushed the toe of his shoe into the red stain in Jakub’s shoulder until the man keened and tried to back away. Viktor had his knee in the fallen man’s back instantly, keeping his forward, and Yuuri dropped his foot. He observed the bloody smear on the edge of his black leather brogues and wiped it off on his prisoner’s sleeve.

Jakub muttered something that sounded crude in Czech. Although to his ears, all of it sounded crude.

“Caveman language.” He told Jakub, poking him again, and eliciting a hiss.

“I said,” Jakub grimaced, his gold-tipped teeth stained pink.  “You are a bastard.”

Yuuri _tched_. “Perhaps you reconsider your words. I have yet to decide whether to send you back to your brother whole or in fractions.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and tilting Jakub’s chin up, careful to avoid the spittle that dribbled over jawline. “Would he miss your tongue? Your left eye maybe? My man here has been practicing.”

Jakub looked ready to paint Yuuri’s face with saliva, but his eyes darted to where Phichit stood behind the wingback chair, tossing a knife into the air and catching it by the blade each time. He was unfortunately very acquainted with those knives already.

“I would try to console you with the fact that it would be painless or quick, but I try not to lie.” Yuuri added as an afterthought and dropped Jakub stubble chin. “Pathetic.”

But Phichit cleared his throat. “Boss, it’s not my turn.”

Yuuri spared him a look of mild surprise and Phichit shrugged in an over exaggerated manner. “It’s Viktor’s turn. And anyway, he tried to take a cheap shot at Silver. Not me.”

Yuuri glanced at Viktor for confirmation, and saw the Russian was giving Phichit an almost fond look. “Phichit, I'm touched.”

Pichit growled at him. “Fuck off.”

Viktor grinned and leaned onto Jakub’s back like he was an ottoman. “I thought you would have wanted to test drive the knife set you won off me.”

Phichit look away, still throwing his knife into the air on repeat. “I haven’t sharpened them yet.”

Viktor nodded at that even though the chances that the knives were in any way blunt was a definite lie. Yuuri stowed his surprise at the exchange for the moment. “Phichit is right, this is your catch.”

Viktor turned his glowing blue eyes to Yuuri, making him feel…he pushed the thought away. “It was your hunt. So tell me, whole or fractions?”

It occurred to Yuuri in a flash of clarity, the reason why he and Viktor worked so seamlessly, and why Viktor had gained his respect and admiration so quickly where no one else had.

Viktor didn’t perceive their difference in status; for the Russian, it was incidental. He saw them as _equals_.

And for Yuuri, Viktor wasn’t like Phichit; a shadow at his side, moving when he moved and sighing when he sighed. Nor was he a companion brought to heel at a word. Viktor was his mirror image. The reason they moved together like oil and water, was because Viktor filled in the spaces Yuuri had left around him.

His eyes flickered and he saw Viktor’s brow crease ever so slightly, but he couldn’t think on it now, in this moment. In that seat, in the ruins of the Crocotura den, with a bleeding hyena at his feet.

Jakub however, had had enough of their careless banter and hissed.

“You make a foolish mistake, Katsuki. How do you think I knew Viktor? How I knew who he _was_? You have something of Yaakov’s and he will have it back! You should have handed him over when you had the chance.”

Yuuri felt his insides congeal, turning cold and returned his gaze to Jakub.

“You bark and bark and mess like an untrained runt. Your brother knows this, Yaakov knows this, and that is why you are now left out in the cold. Can you feel like ice? Does it make you shiver?”

Yuuri stood and Phichit straightened beside him. Viktor had heard Jakub’s misguided threat and let loose a long-suffering sigh. The blue of his eyes had changed from the colour of still waters to the chill blue of thick ice.

“Whole or fractions?” he asked again and Yuuri felt a not unpleasant thrill at the almost animal look he saw just then.

Yuuri made a show of considering the prone man whose face was already a chaos of purple and red and white.

“He only needs one eye to see. And whatever else you want, Viktor.”

The last thing he saw was Viktor sliding his black leather gloves onto his hands before he left.

 

-*-

 

Forty minutes later, Viktor slid into the back seat of the Impala, tossing his jacket beside him and sighing. Lacing his hands behind his head and crossing his one leg over the other, he contrived to look as if he had just come back from holiday.

Yuuri saw his smile in the rear view mirror, like a cut in his pale face.

“Anyone else feel like getting something to eat?” he asked.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, was it ok?  
> So some more violence. and some smut. I am not going to say 'i'm trash' because I like writing smut and I still want to get better at it. Your feedback is appreciated.
> 
> Wreak Havoc - Skylar Grey  
> You dont own me - Grace  
> Me and the devil - Soap and Skin  
> heathens - twenty one pilots  
> I hate you i love you - gnash  
> Running up that hill - placebo  
> Gangsta -Khelani  
> Sucker for pain -Lil wayne, Whiz Khalifa, Imagine dragons.
> 
> Please help me write better violence and mafia-ness by giving me music to listen to!


	16. How to grow eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this starts with smutty mcsmut smut. it was fun.  
> As always, your comments give me life.

Viktor felt the tug at his neck echo in his abdomen warmly and he obeyed.

“Do you prefer this? Being bound?” Yuuri asked him, voice low but Viktor knew he was as delighted as he was careful about the collar.

“I’ve never done it before.” Viktor admitted, reached for Yuuri’s mouth. “Do you?”

“I have _obviously_ never done this before. In any way that was sexual at least.” Yuuri admitted.

“But you’re enjoying it.”

In reply, Yuuri pulled the chain again, bringing Viktor close enough to kiss him. It wasn’t really a controlling thing, the collar and chain, but seeing the dark leather around Viktor’s neck had given him an intense need to hear the chink of metal, and to feel the brief resistance from the body it was tied to.

It was a game, all of it. Not just because of the collar. Yuuri was beginning to feel his years of pent-up sexual deprivation and Viktor was all too willing to teach him what he needed to know, at the pace he was comfortable with. It was education, it was exploration and Yuuri let himself revel in it.

Leading Viktor towards his bed, a wide king size with silk sheets, and his eyes took in the long form eagerly. Viktor was…a fantasy. His body was sculpted, with more definition that most men preferred and though his shoulders were wide, his body was lean and elegant with ropey muscles wrapping around his bones. His skin was pale and the only blemishes were the collection of varied scars, the color and texture of new skin. He turned Viktor around, enjoying the compliance, pushing flat onto the bed in a slow movement, following him down, hand never leaving his chest.

“I like to watch you.” Yuuri told him, enjoying the way the words brought a twitch to the silver-haired man’s cock. “On the mats, when you spar. When you practice your dance fighting. When your fingers flick out a knife.”

Yuuri ran his hands over the man’s chest, letting his fingers splay and press. “I like to watch you now.”

It was similar in a way, to when he held sway over his business partners, over the many people who formed the branches of the Katsuki clan. When he gave instructions to his men and women, expecting obedience without a thought.  But this was different because it was Viktor.

Viktor who was unbeaten. Viktor who bowed only to him. Viktor who laughed with him over _sake_. Viktor who willingly gave over control to him, with complete trust.

“Yuuri?” Viktor’s voice asked, questioning and soft. Yuuri realized he had gotten lost in his thoughts.

“You do not fear me.” He said after a moment, his hands still flexing over Viktor’s chest and down his sides, mapping out his rib cage.

“No,” Viktor answered simply. “I don’t think I ever have.”

It wasn’t an insult, the words didn’t leave any disquiet in Yuuri’s mind. It was the opposite; _it was relief_.

There was one person in this world who did not fear him. There was one person in his world that did not have to. He leaned down and gave the man beneath him a tender kiss, and Viktor met it eagerly.

Yuuri wound the chain in his hand again and tugged playfully. “What are you going to teach me tonight, Russian?”

Viktor brought himself up and curled his arms around Yuuri’s waist, smiling. “What do you want to learn?”

While Yuuri considered, Viktor watched him while hands rubbed up and down his back, not lingering, but simply touching. Yuuri arched into it with an appreciative hum and Viktor caught his mouth.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. If this was where you wanted to stop, I would be content.”

Yuuri was somewhat incredulous. “Content? How can you be content with just this? Haven’t you… wouldn’t you want…?” Yuuri couldn’t quite finish the words and it felt uncharacteristically bashful of him.

Viktor shook his hair from his eyes. “It’s not about what I want, it’s about what we want together. You have never been with a man, I would understand if that-“

Yuuri pushed Viktor down onto the bed again hard, hands on his shoulder and suddenly angry. “Don’t pity me.”

Viktor’s eyes widened. Then he laughed, he actually laughed. “Yuuri, I don’t pity you.”

“That’s what you mean.”

“No.” Viktor shook his head. “I meant that, just because we want each other, doesn’t mean we have to fulfill an idea of what it means when two men are together. How can you tell me exactly what you want? You didn’t even have lubricant, Yuuri before I bought some, so I know you haven’t experimented.”

Yuuri, to his shock, became embarrassed. Viktor caught him before he could leave.

“Don’t.” Viktor said, suddenly all seriousness. “Don’t ever be embarrassed in front of me. It doesn’t matter to me, because I want _you_. All the time, I want you. We were all inexperienced at one point, and the fact that you haven’t indulged doesn’t make you weak or stupid. You did it because it was the best thing to do, and I would have done the same in your place.”

Viktor held him close, and his embrace was firm but not caging. Yuuri felt himself ease slowly as Viktor started kissing his neck.

“Let me teach you. Anything you want to know, I will do my best.”

What Yuuri was learning fast, was that Viktor was very good at getting his way. He observed the silver hair, dragged a hand through it and tugging slightly. Viktor lifted his head, blue eyes lidded under silver lashes and Yuuri felt bold.

“Show me.” Yuuri told him. When Viktor’s eyes widened he clarified. “Show me how to experiment, as you say. Touch yourself.”

When Viktor hesitated Yuuri tugged significantly on the chain again pulling him close enough for him to speak in his ear.

“You want to teach me, don’t you? I want to watch you.” Yuuri spoke low, teasing. “I want to watch you touch yourself as you think of me.”

Viktor hands feel away from Yuuri’s sides and reach between them but Yuuri stayed close. “When we’re together, when we’re in public, do you want to touch me then?”

Yuuri took Viktor huffed breath against his ear and movement between them as a ‘ _yes’_. He leaned back to he could see the activity, and almost lost breath himself. Viktor’s long slender fingers were stroking his pink erection, while he kept a hazy gaze on his face. Yuuri took it all in greedily, holding the chain taught.

“When I watch you training?” Yuuri tested. “When we spar?”

The hand clenched and stroked harder, making Yuuri flush in turn. Did he really have such an effect on this man?

“What else do you imagine when you touch yourself, Viktor? What picture goes through your mind?”

Viktor gave him a look which was glittering with lust, incendiary. “Your glasses.”

“Glasses?” Yuuri nearly dropped the chain.

Viktor huffed a brief laugh. “Yes. And very likely, this chain, now.”

Yuuri blinked and let them chain slack a little, to hear the sound. “I don’t want you to touch yourself without me from now on.” Viktor didn’t answer but kept stroking. “Not unless I’m watching you.”

This time Viktor’s hipped surged upwards, lifting Yuuri slightly and giving him a warm sense of satisfaction.

“Show me, Viktor.” He purred.

Yuuri’s curious gaze followed Viktor’s second hand and saw it dip between them. At first, he thought Viktor was going to press against the bulge in his pants, but instead, he reached further and realized that Viktor was pressing much lower between his own legs. His eyes widened and he scooted backward of Victor’s lap, letting the chain out and pushing the taller man down.

Viktor huffed and shot him an annoyed look but Yuuri only tutted. “Don’t stop.”

“Perhaps if you keep telling me how you like to watch me, I won’t.” Viktor challenged. So Yuuri climbed over the bed next to him, letting the cold chain rest against his now heated chest and playing with it over the skin.

“I remember the first time I saw you cut a man. I remember your long fingers. These fingers.” Yuuri was already being bold so he let his hands trail down Viktor’s arm and travel down to become parallel with his, and found that Viktor had already sunk two fingers into himself.

The vision of a collared Viktor masturbating to images of Yuuri and touching himself while looking wrecked on his bed was too erotic to resist. He pressed a hard kiss into Viktor’s mouth, forgetting the chain then and urging Viktor’s hand further.

“Yuuri, I’m close.” Viktor panted. “Do you want me to stop?”

The thought honestly hadn’t occurred to him but when he nodded, Viktor’s hands immediately ceased, watching Yuuri for the next instruction.

“Why do you do it? Down there?” Yuuri asked, licking at the sweat beading on Viktor’s neck, feeling the butterfly fast pulse beneath his tongue. Viktor for some reason laughed and brush his hair away from his face.

“Do you know what the prostate is?”

Yuuri bit lightly, experimentally at the tight skin over Viktor’s shoulder. “I’ve heard of it, but no more than that.”

Viktor arched his neck so Yuuri could have better access. “It a gland just inside your anus, and, well, if you massage it, it really adds to the whole experience.”

Yuuri hummed and lifted so he could meet Viktor’s eyes. “Ah, so not to imitate the feeling of…penetration.”

Viktor managed a quirked eyebrow. “Well, no. Although it can for some I suppose. But it’s more to _prepare_ for penetration. It can hurt if you don’t.”

Yuuri gripped Viktor’s chin and tilted it closer so he could kiss him. It was just to taste at first then became more and the chain was forgotten between them as Viktor wrapped his arms around Yuuri and turned him so that this time it was his back against the sheets. Viktor kissed like he had all night, searching and probing and sliding his tongue over Yuuri’s like he was memorizing his flavor.

The thought gave Yuuri an idea. He bit at Viktor’s lip, tugging before pulling away. Tilting his head slightly to the side he licked his lips.

“Show me.”

Viktor huffed a laugh and moved to obey but Yuuri stopped him, by grabbing his hand and lowering it to his own crotch.

“ _Show me_.”

 

-*-

 

Playing teacher to Yuuri’s starved sexuality was already a high, but Yuuri giving him such a purely erotic invitation as almost too much. He swallowed and forced himself to sit back, gently removing his hand and trying to re-center. “Yuuri, are you sure?”

Yuuri’s Casanova look degenerated into a frown. “You don’t have to ask me each time.”

Viktor couldn’t help but lean over Yuuri now prone on the bed, brushing their cocks together through the fabric and kissing his mouth.

“I ask because I want to be sure. I don’t want you to pretend for me, or because you think I want more.”

There was a brief struggle in Yuuri’s expression, then a glimpse of something far more vulnerable and Viktor felt his chest tighten. Yuuri sighed against him, slumping into the mattress.

“I ask because…I want more. I don’t have the vocabulary for what I want. But if I ask, it’s because I want it.” Yuuri said, with mingled frustration and longing.

“Alright,” Viktor replied, determined to have restraint as he slipped the waistband of Yuuri’s pants down and off. He was careful and tender, and pressed his hand once again to Yuuri’s erection, softly massaging the flesh with the heel of his hand and letting his fingers splay over his ball sack. It was a passionate exercise, slowly easing Yuuri into feeling full lust, but adorable to watch. When Yuuri finally let go, it was always like seeing fireworks even though he always held his cries very close.

“Here,” Viktor whispered, letting his fingers press lightly against the perineum. Yuuri sucked in a breath and let it go again like a prayer. Viktor bit his lip to hold back a laugh that had nothing to do with humor and everything to do with the man before him, unraveling him piece by piece with just words and breath. Viktor was more than happy to postpone his own climax to bring Yuuri slowly to his. Letting his fingers trail down he pressed against Yuuri’s pucker and felt it twitch in response.

“Still alright?”

Yuuri forced a kiss on him that indicated that _yes, he was very much alright and could Viktor please stop asking._

Viktor found the lubricant he the left on the bedside cabinet and applied some generously to his fingers. Yuuri’s obviously contained hiss when his hand moved back again, not slippery, was a pleasure of its own.  He rubbed the entrance again, careful, with little pressure.

“I have to say this, but if you want me to stop, just say so. It will be fine, at any time. Promise me?”

Yuuri nodded, glazed expression anticipatory and slightly worried, and Viktor slid a digit into the first knuckle.

Yuuri jerked slightly in surprise but he didn’t seem uncomfortable, so Viktor watched his reactions very carefully as he pushed further. Yuuri eyes widened and his hands, which had found Viktor’s shoulders gripped tighter.

“Does it hurt?” Viktor asked gently, kissing Yuuri cheek.

“No, it…” Yuuri swallowed. “It’s strange.”

Viktor stilled his hand and Yuuri pulled their faces together quickly. “No, go on.”

Viktor restarted the slow rhythmic rubbing of his index finger inside Yuuri’s cavity, searching until he brushed against a small bulb of tissue. This time, Yuuri jerk wasn’t muted at all.

“Ah!” He cried out before he could stop himself.

“That’s it.”

Yuuri didn’t respond and Viktor touched it again, making Yuuri arch into him and Viktor felt the hard line of his cock against his abdomen.  Yuuri was unraveling under his hand and the view was intoxicating.

And inspiring.

Viktor moved lower until he was all the way between Yuuri’s legs and could kiss his inner thigh. Yuuri watched him do it but said nothing as Viktor worked him.

“Watch me.” He said and opened his mouth to tongue at the underside of Yuuri’s cock. As Yuuri’s hips surged upwards, Viktor caught the tip in his mouth, then swallowed as much of the length as he could.

Yuuri grunted out something in Japanese, and Viktor took it as a good sign, working in a second finger and giving Yuuri’s cock more attention with his tongue. He slid slowly upwards leaving only the tip in his mouth before pushing down again with hollowed cheeks and the action caused a whole body clench. Suddenly Yuuri’s was curled around him and there were fingers threaded through his hair.

“Viktor…” Yuuri growled in a voice so unlike his usual, platonic drawl it made Viktor hum around his cock. Viktor loved it all, the heavy slide of the veined skin against his tongue, having to make room in his mouth for its length, and the pulsating feel of his approaching climax.

“Viktor…” came another growl, and Viktor knew its meaning. He slid his mouth as down as it could go, Yuuri hand pushing him too, and forced his throat to relax and Yuuri’s heated cum exploded into his mouth.

He swallowed carefully, mouth still around Yuuri. Even when Yuuri collapsed backward, he didn’t let go until Yuuri was completely soft. Pulling his finger out at the same time as letting Yuuri’s flaccid penis fall from his mouth, he watched the man in front of him, damp with sweat.

He felt slightly ashamed of himself because even if Yuuri hadn’t enjoyed that, he very much had.

He massaged at the inside of the man’s legs gently and was satisfied to feel them tremble. Yuuri had thrown an arm over his face and was still breathing hard.

“Yuuri?” Viktor said, working his way back up the man’s body in a kind of worship. “Yuuri?”

When Viktor came level, Yuuri looked at him from under his arm and Viktor felt a twinge of anxiety. “Yuuri?”

Yuuri’s lax hand found the chain once more, and used it to pull Viktor closer for a kiss. Viktor leaned into it with relief.

“You can come now,” Yuuri said into his mouth.

 

-*-

 

Viktor repressed a shiver as the cold autumn wind tried to blow through his trench coat. He reminded himself that if he ever had the chance, he would never spend an autumn in Czechoslovakia if he could help it.

Gabris Crocotura, far from seeming overly concerned about his now half-blind younger brother, looked annoyed and was smoking some brand of cigarette and its pungent smells reminded Viktor of bitumen and burned tyres. The man was alike to his brother except that he was larger, and hairier, with a beard that could hide a cat if he required it. Unlike his brother, however, he seemed less flamboyant. No jewelry, no gold tipped teeth and about as quick to smile as a bull. Viktor felt much more satisfied with his demeanor than he had with Jakub, who was now being led out of the small jet Katsuki Yuuri had allowed for the express purpose of delivering Jakub back home. Some might call it courtesy, some might call it pouring salt on the wound.

 _Look here_ , the gesture said. _Your little brother is such an embarrassment I had to escort him home_.

It probably accounted for the scowl on Gabris’ face, although judging by the seams on his face, this was a near-permanent expression.

He did, however, notice Viktor’s small shift as the icy wind blew over them, sweeping snow into the hangar.

“You are not dressed for winter.” Gabris rumbled.

Viktor shook his head. “I do not plan on staying.”

“You have become unused to cold, living in Japan?” the conversation was idle and pointless and so Viktor surged minutely.

“Our business is done. Give him a collar. Or a walking stick.” Viktor said, already turning away.

“Vitya.”

Viktor stilled, his insides turning to glass. He turned to Gabris with a look many men had seen as a prelude to fatality.

“That is not my name.” he eased out.

Gabris carried smoking his foul cigarette, expression unchanging. “It’s what Yaakov calls you when he speaks of you.”

Viktor’s fingers itched for his knives, which lay against his wrists. But Gabris shook his head.

“Don’t be stupid Vitya. You are not in your own home, your own country, if you have one anymore. I have borne the embarrassment of this;” he briefly indicated his brother, who stood with hunched shoulders by a black car a distance away. “Because this is how things are done yes? Between us people. But that exchange is done, do not start a new one here.”

Viktor gritted his teeth still feeling like any moment he would need to either run or fight.

“I heard Yaakov had something to do with your brother's unwise actions.” Viktor said instead, keeping the menace out of his voice.

Gabris grunted, and it could have been irritation or regret. “Yes. A fact which only came to light much too late. My brother, he is young and wishes to have his own throne. When he told me his plans for Japan, I thought he was simply chasing his pipe dream, not that someone had been pouring poison into his ear.” Smoke mingled with icy air. “By the time I became aware that Yaakov was involved, the damage was done. Jakub had to learn his lesson.”

“But you have spoken to him since.”

“Ah yes. You know, we all speak to one another, but I had to follow up on his involvement with this whole fuck up.” Gabris waved his cigarette as if indicating the world full of wayward brothers. “We spoke of you.”

Victor forced himself to stay still.

“I will tell you, Viktor Silver, perhaps you should have stayed in your hole, out of sight. But now you take up knives for Katsuki? Knives that Yaakov gave you and taught you the use of? Ai, he is not happy, not happy at all.”

Viktor felt his resolve turn cold and icy then, no longer needing to reach for his blades. “He gave me nothing, and taught me nothing.”

“He does not see it that way. When he left you for dead, he expected you to stay that way, that is all I know. And now you are not.”

Viktor contrived to sigh like the conversation was boring him. “As I said, my business here is done.”

“Vitya.” Gabris said in parting. “You should try to grow eyes in the back of your head. That is my advice.”

“ _B’lyad._ ” Viktor cursed under his breath as he made his way back to the short staircase leading back into the jet, his feet hitting the steps harder than necessary.

-*-

Viktor was leaning lying naked among Yuuri’s sheets, face turned away and pensive. Yuuri found that Viktor preferred to be naked if he had the chance, and he needed very little excuse to shed his clothes. It suited him fine, but tonight he was distracted by what had occurred during the delivery of Jakub.

Yuuri, in contrast, was still clothed in his gown and sitting on the couch watching his Russian lover. The word was still strange in his mind and on his tongue, but that was what they were now. Viktor never pressed for more, and Yuuri’s mind skated away from it if he tried. It was complicated, to employ your lover, but Yuuri had never been in the situation before so he navigated it carefully.

But now, Viktor was perturbed and it irritated Yuuri.

“What is it?” Yuuri demanded eventually, fingers twitching.

Viktor turned his head, his silver hair shining against the black sheets, blue eyes startlingly blue in the dark tones of the room. Yuuri saw worry there, not quite concealed.

“He seeks me out and I’m concerned he will come here to your doorstep.” Viktor said quietly, pushing himself up to sitting position. He pushed at his hair angrily. “And I don’t know why. I can’t understand it.”

Yuuri’s fingers tapped a rhythm against the arm of the couch. “And so, if he does, we’ll deal with him. There is a reason he hasn’t come yet, he knows it would be a stupid tactical move.”

Viktor was unappeased, pushing his hand over his mouth and glowering at the floor while the sheets slithered down around his waist. Yuuri sighed and got up, rubbing at his eyes.

“Viktor-“

“He called me _Vitya_.” Viktor said, voice dull and hollow. “It was his nickname for me. And when I heard it today, I was like…an animal. I wanted to run.”

Uncharacteristic of the Russian, he wouldn’t look Yuuri in the eye then and Yuuri recognized that well enough. “You are ashamed of yourself. You believe you acted like a coward.”

He saw the hunching of victors shoulders at the words and knew he was right.

“A coward cannot protect you.”

Yuuri kneeled onto the bed pushing himself into Viktor’s space and gazing down, immutable. “You are not a coward. Far from it.” He said it factually. The words weren’t intended to comfort or heal. Gripping Viktor’s chin hard, he forced him to look up. “I know this, or I wouldn’t keep you.”

He let go and arranged himself over Viktor’s legs until he was comfortable in his lap. “And you _are_ an animal.” He corrected, bringing Viktor’s hand up and touching the gold ring. Turning it upwards, he tapped against the emerald-eyed snake there. “You are a serpent now, a predator. Whatever you were before, it doesn’t matter.”

Threaded his hand into the silky silver locks on Viktor’s head he tugged lightly, but the message was clear. _Snap out of it_.

“It doesn’t matter what he called you, it doesn’t matter that he wants you. You are _mine_ now. And only mine.”

“Yours.” Viktor murmured as Yuuri bit at his neck.

 _And I am yours_.

 

-*-

 

Viktor stopped at a small café to buy a bunch of flowers before heading the way to the bathhouse. He had been doing for it a while, ever since he had seen how pleased Yuuri’s mother had been by the orchid he’d bought her on a whim months before. She always put them in a vase with a slightly yellow color, and it made the already homely bathhouse even more picturesque.

 

He was going early, and knew Yuuri would arrive later, unknown, but he preferred Viktor to go there first, saying his mother enjoyed his company. Viktor had to take his word for it, as she had never said as much to him, in spite of the fact that he always endeavored to speak to her in Japanese now.

H had also bought her a new pair of shoes, because Makkachin kept chewing hers. She always waved it off but Viktor felt guilty anyway. He hoped the chew toy he had brought with would curb the habit, but Makkachin, who had been on best behavior before, seemed to like the taste of her footwear too much to stop.

When he pulled his car into the driveway, he was surprised that Makkanin hadn’t come out to meet him. Instead, as he was fetching the flowers and shoes out of the back seat, he saw her open the door and instantly he was on alert.

He walked up to her quickly, unusually alarmed by her face which was not smiling now. Her small eyes were wide and she looked pained.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” he said quickly in Japanese.

“Makkachin knew him, so I wasn’t sure…” she said haltingly, eyes darting between him and the house.

“Who?” Viktor said his alarm skyrocketing, but he immediately pushed her behind him anyway. “Get in the car.” There was a stranger in the bathhouse and his friend was worried in a way that he’d never seen before. “Get in the car and call Yuuri now please.”

Makkachin finally came bounding around the side of the house, seemingly unworried and unmolested. Viktor ignored his attempts to greet and kept looking at the house.

“Heel.” He muttered, though the dog didn’t listen. He was more excited than usual this time.

Viktor’s eyes caught on a head of blonde hair and for the second time in a week, he stilled.

“Get in the car now,” he growled at the small woman behind him, and watched as she scurried to the blue fiat and closed the door.

He was older now, at least mid-twenties, and had filled out. The first time Viktor had seen him he was a thin, gangly youth with a bad attitude. He was thin anymore, his shoulders were broad and he was nearly the same height as Viktor. He had let his hair grow long, long enough to be tied in a messyponytaill behind his head. His expression however, was the same. Aiming for stoic and ending up petulant and missish.

“Vitya.” The blonde man said, hand inside the pockets of his leopard print hoodie.

“Kitten.” Viktor greeted in turn.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey Kitten.


	17. Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took me a while to map out in my head. It's setting the scene for the next few chapters, and I'm hoping to round everything off in another four, five max.
> 
> Um, any comments or CRITIQUES are welcome.

Narrowly avoiding a fist, Viktor felt the rush of air as it sped past his ear. With Yuri’s new height, he had much better reach than before. Unlike so many of his sparring partners lately, Yuri had height and bulk on his side, as well as using the very style that Viktor was known for. It made the fight different, far fuller of angles and knees and heels.

Yuri had retreated slightly in the face of his assault but not far before they delved into the heat of it.

“Stop.” Yuri said to him, knocking his knee to the side. “I’m not-“

Viktor didn’t let him finish, renewing his attack. The best way to eliminate Yuri, if he remembered, was quickly.

“Stop darting about, kitten.” Viktor said as he tried and failed to get leverage over Yuri’s shoulder.

“Viktor, you need to listen-“

Viktor managed to land a hard smack on Yuri’s ear making him stagger back, and giving him a second to slip the knife out from next to his wrist. He loosed it and watched it sink into Yuri’s thigh at least until halfway. Yuri cried out angrily, before taking the blade and tossing it away.

That gave Viktor pause. It wasn’t like Yuri to throw away a weapon.

Yuri glared at him from under yellow hair and the look was so intensely familiar it gave Viktor slight vertigo. “You fucking idiot, I’m trying to tell you I’m not here to fight.”

They stood apart, Viktor still ready for an onslaught and Yuri still tense.

“I don’t care why you’re here, Yuri.” Viktor told him coolly. “If you don’t leave, you won’t have a chance to later.”

Yuri tried to push his insanely long hair out of the way, and Viktor privately noted that unlike he had, Yuri refused to tie it back properly. It was sloppy, and vain, and not unlike him at all. “I need you to fucking listen, you-“

Viktor didn’t let him finish; the warning had been ignored.  He came at Yuuri with two quick hits to his head, one to the solar plexus and a swift knee to follow. Yuri blocked it all, to his credit, but he didn’t see the last one coming at his cheek. The ground was rocky, and he slid slightly in the gravel and Viktor managed to knock him to the side for a moment, then quickly had him in a headlock.

“Yaakov could have done better than sending his little pet for me, hmm? Especially when I know all your moves.”

Yuri gagged slightly. “Yaakov didn’t send me, you dumb fuck.”

The phone in Viktor’s pocket rang and he managed a still dazed Yuri to the ground, locking his arms behind his back and wrenching them up hard. Then he answered.

“Yuuri.”

“What’s going on?” Yuuri’s voice, usually so clipped, was strained. “Why is my mother in hysterics?”

“ _We have complications_.” He answered in Japanese. “Stay down!” he shouted at Yuri in Russian when he tried to buck Viktor off of him, but Viktor still had weight on his side. He pushed Yuri’s face into the grassy dirt under them.

“ _Russian complications_.” Yuuri replied in Japanese, sounding dark.

“ _Yes._ ” Viktor replied.  “ _Give me fifteen minutes, and I’ll be back at the manor. Send someone to the bathhouse now._ ”

“Do it.” Yuuri said briefly before hanging up.

Viktor, now tired of the struggling Yuri beneath him, took out one of his heavier knives and hit Yuri hard enough with the handle to knock him out.

 

-*-

 

Yuri was blinking up at them through a swollen eye, but somehow still managed to look pissed.

“Why is it,” Phichit mused too close to Yuri’s ear, “That Russians always arrive uninvited?”

Both Viktor and Yuuri mirrored each other without realizing, leaning back against the wall and arms folded. Phichit however, was hovering around their newest victim, comparing his hair to the color of urine. Even though Yuri was sporting a series of bruises, a large welt on his forehead from Viktor’s beating, and then some of Phichit’s hasty additions, he still kept his eyes trained on Viktor, like it was supposed to change something about his current predicament.

“ _Do you want to take over?”_ Yuuri asked him, quietly in Japanese.

Viktor had to think for a moment. “ _It’s not my turn_.”

“ _Still. I’m sure Phichit would be content to share_.”

Viktor wasn’t so sure, judging from the manic glint in Pichit’s eyes, but he considered it. Then he shook his head slowly. “ _I think…I wouldn’t be able to do a good job this time. Or maybe too good a job.”_

Yuuri gave him an assessing look before levering himself off the wall and leaving the grey cell soundlessly. Viktor followed.

When they were outside the room and out of earshot Yuuri fixed Viktor to the spot, as he always did, with a mere look.

“Tell me.”

“It was him. He was the one who told Yaakov.” Viktor informed him. This wasn’t new information, but with Yuri Plisetsky actually here within the walls of Viktor’s new life, it had a different flavour. He had cut off that life, that world completely, and having it here in his face was like forcing himself to recognize a worn out photograph, and all the emotions that came with it. He blinked slowly, clearing his eyes so Yuuri could see the honest truth.

“He is the grandson of a close partner of Yaakov’s who died. He had no one else, so when he was fifteen they gave him to me to train. He lived with me, ate with me, and I had to train him up to Yaakov’s satisfaction. We were very close…for about seven years. He was the one who gave me Makkachin.”

Yuuri didn’t nod or show any kind of reaction at all. “And yet he was the one who betrayed you to Yaakov.”

Viktor nodded. “We were out at a bar, he happened to tag along. He saw me with a man in the street next to the building. That was the last I saw of him.”

“And so you think that you won’t be able to hurt him? Because he was your protégée?”

Viktor blinked once, twice. “No Yuuri. I am scared that I will hurt him too much. And we don’t have any information yet. Leave him to me for the last. Before that…he might not have a tongue to speak.”

Yuuri’s eyes flashed with something else then, something glassy and immutable and Viktor was reminded of when he had first met the man. Before, when Katsuki Yuuri had been towering over him, as likely to let his men snap his neck as he was to let him go. He was reminded that Yuuri was a dual-natured being, and only Viktor knew that fact.

Here, was the flash of fire Viktor saw very rarely, when Yuuri’s temper was ignited like a wick.

“ _Viktor! Viktor, this is completely unnecessary! I will tell you anything want to know_!” Yuri’s voice called out from the room in Russian.

Before Viktor could react, the Katsuki’s head re-entered the room in a soundless but swift movement, and had crossed the small space to backhand the blonde man across the face, hard.

“English. You aren’t in the motherland now.” Yuuri said in low warning.

“Kitten, you should know better.” Viktor added behind him, sounding bored.

Yuri spat out blood while Pichit giggled. “Fine. I am here to speak to you, Viktor.”

Viktor shrugged. “It’s not up to _me_ if we listen to anything you say.”

Yuuri had found his coin and was chasing it from knuckle to knuckle. “Yuri Plisetsky, also known as the Russian Fairy, employed by Yaakov and his organization in Russia.” Yuuri paused and gave Viktor a careless shrug. “I don’t know much more than that.”

“That’s because he’s not important.” Viktor responded.

“They call you Fairy?” Phichit broke in with a derisive giggle. “Is it because of your girlish hair?”

“Vitya, I came to warn-“

There was another unforeseen, casually violent backhand from Yuuri, and his coin pinged off the wall.

“That’s not his name here.” Yuuri spoke quietly. “You will not say it again.”

Viktor shifted but stayed silent while Phichit went to fetch the thrown coin and tossed it back to his master, who caught it expertly.

Yuri looked angry but reigned in as he turned back to them, his lip split.

“Viktor Nikiforov, I didn’t come here to argue. I came here to talk.”

There was silence in the room as all four men waited on Viktor to speak. After exchanging a permissive look with Yuuri, Viktor stepped closer and bent his limber legs so he could see Yuri eye to eye.

“I have one question.” Viktor said. “If you lie, then your one, slim chance of not bleeding to death on this remarkably resilient concrete will be gone.”

Yuri said nothing, only blinked away the blood dripping into his eyelashes, but his determination never faded.

“When you ran to Yaakov, to tell him what you saw, who you saw me with, and did you know what would happen? That they would beat me almost to death and throw me out into the winter?”

He watched with crazed intensity then, willing Yuri to _lie_ , willing him to _deserve_ what Viktor wanted to do to him. But Yuri knew Viktor’s ways from long ago, understood what was at stake, and understood the significance of Viktor’s stare. Viktor was better than any lie detector.

“No.” Yuri said firmly, eyes as open and clear as they could go. “No, I didn’t know.”

Viktor caught his breath inaudibly and stopped himself from rocking back on his heels.

“You’re lying.” He gritted out.

“You know I’m not.” Yuri replied, shoulders hunched and his glower fading away. “I didn’t know, I wasn’t even the one who told him.”

Viktor stood abruptly and stepped away, looking at the wall opposite. When a movement from Yuuri caught his attention, and he saw the unspoken question in his gaze, Viktor forced himself to shake his head.

No, Yuri Plisetsky was not lying.

Yuuri tossed the coin once more and caught it, swiftly vanishing it in his fist.

“Come Phichit.” He said, while the other man whined his disappointment. Glancing at Viktor on his way out, he said, “You get hold of Altin, while I go wake the idiot Swiss.”

 

-*-

 

Yuuri waved a hand to Mimeko. “Go fetch the Fairy.” And she went off quickly, the heavy carpet of Yuuri’s office muffling her heavy tread.

He turned back to his assembled meeting, feeling irritated and mildly concerned. Christophe had come up with a pile of information within twenty minutes, but he was still sifting through it which meant a lot of talking (which was aggravating) and a lot of patience, which he didn’t have. Eventually, he sent the man away, telling him to come back with solid accurate information soon since Altin was due to video call within the hour. With that little motivation Christophe had returned fairly quickly, his back ramrod straight and expression aloof.

“Yuri Plisetsky, orphaned at twelve years and sent to live with his grandfather Nikolai Plisetsky until the darling age of fifteen when he died. Nikolai Plisetsky was known to be a good friend of Yaakov’s but from what I can see had only had a fairly low rank within the organization. He was only involved with some drugs and weapons smuggling, nothing too high profile. When he died of bullet to the brain, surprise surprise, Yaakov took him in-“

“And gave him to me, telling me to make him more useful than his Grandfather had been.” Viktor cut in and Yuuri shot him a sharp look. The taller man had been reserved since Yuri’s admission earlier, his fringe swung in front of his eyes. He slouched in the chair he occupied, unmoving and somber.

Christophe raised his eyebrows. “Ah yes, I saw that too. He and some others were under your tutelage...”

“What is ‘tutelage’?” Phichit asked from his seat on the window sill.

Viktor answered him in Japanese. “ _Shubi_.”

“In any case,” Christophe went on testily, hating interruptions, “He stayed with you the longest, up until your, err, forced resignation.”

Yuuri, Viktor, and Phichit all stared at the Swiss man as if to say ‘ _you’re an idiot_.’ with their eyes. Christophe flushed and cleared his throat.

“Up until recently, he was still within the Yaakov Empire. Although, I cannot confirm what he was doing exactly. Some sources say drugs, some say information, some say more _clandestine_ involvement…”

“You stupid Swiss idiot. Use real words!” Phichit grouched at him.

“Learn better English, hound.” Christophe sniffed. When Phichit made a jerky move towards him Christophe practically leapt backwards in alarm

On any other day it would have been entertaining. Today it was not.

“Get out.” Yuuri said. “Both of you.”

Phichit looked instantly reprimanded. “Boss-“

“I said get out.”

Looking both chided and mulish, the man he employed to man his computers and the man he kept on a leash left the room, heads bowed. When the door closed, Yuuri did not look at Viktor, though the inaction was deliberate.

But there was nothing to say.

“They call him ‘Fairy’ because he was a very small child. Even in his teens, he was skinny.” Viktor held up a fist with just his pinkie stretched out. “Yaakov gave him the nickname, because it amused him that he hated it.”

The intensity of Viktor’s dour mood itched under Yuuri’s skin uncomfortably, but he couldn’t place it. “I didn’t realise you were close to each other.”

“I considered us friends.” Was the simple reply.

“And now you don’t know what to think.” Yuuri finished for him, a touch curtly. “And you believe he doesn’t lie.”

Viktor’s clenched fist was placed carefully against his face, then he suddenly sighed and leaned forward to meet Yuuri’s eyes, and the disquiet Yuuri saw there bothered him.

“I believe he isn’t lying.” Viktor agreed. “But I don’t know why he is here. And the fact that he is here…we cannot trust it. Not after Crocotura and Gabris.”

Yuuri was fingering his coin, not even realizing he had taken it out and the two men continued to share a look of understanding across the desk for several moments.

“So what must I do with him?” Yuuri asked.

Viktor stood elegantly and came over to kneel in front of Yuuri, touching the hand that lazed over the side of the armrest. He placed a soft kiss to the center knuckle and then bowed his forehead against it.

“You must do as you see fit, Katsuki Yuuri.”

It wasn’t an insult, and it wasn’t a distancing; it was Viktor acknowledging that here in his kingdom, it was Katsuki Yuuri who had the power. Whether they were lovers, companions, friends or colleagues, ultimately Katsuki decided which way the knife fell.

Yuuri’s hand came up to brush through the silver hair on Viktor’s bowed head in an intimate gesture he couldn’t stop. Then he tapped Viktor’s shoulder.

“Can you think clearly, when it comes to him?”

The question was laden with something Yuuri didn’t want to admit aloud. He was asking if Viktor wanted to leave, so he wouldn’t have to deal with an unpleasant reminder of his past pain, deal with a former colleague and student. It was a courtesy that Yuuri would not have offered lightly.

But it was also a question that spoke more volumes about his own feelings for Viktor, feelings he hadn’t concerned himself over until he’d seen the way Viktor’s expression go flat in the face of the new knowledge that Yuri Plisetsky had not in fact betrayed him after all.

He had thought Viktor was _only_ his. And now he was worried that wasn’t true.

Viktor was still a moment before his brow furrowed. “Yuuri-“

But the knock at the door broke the spell and he stood with alacrity, while Yuuri returned back to his former position, and then there was nothing at all.

“Enter.” Yuuri called, and Mimeko came in, pushing the Fairy ahead of her. The hour or so he had been left to stew had not done him any favours; his face was bruised and puffed with angry flesh, blood crusted in the corners of his mouth and over his eye, streaking his hair too.

A small, unassuming alert sounded, telling Yuuri there was an incoming call on his laptop.

“Perfect timing.” Yuuri murmured and pressed the accept button, before turning it towards where Yuri stood in front of his desk. He spoke without preamble.

“Otabek Altin, do you recognise this man?” Yuuri asked.

There was a minute pause in which Yuuri studied the blonde man’s reaction, and was interested by the brief flare of panic across his ruined features. Then Altin’s laconic voice came through. “Barely. But the hair…is that Yuri Plisetsky?”

“Very well done.” Yuuri contrived to sound amused. “What can you tell me about him?”

Otabek Altin, unlike Christophe, gathered information pertinent to his chosen career. Namely, people in the business of organised crime. He swam in these waters, so while the Swiss man collected information on everything and only lazered his focus when required to, Altin’s information was usually within the same sphere.

“Yuri the Russian Fairy. Went MIA a few days ago and Uncle Yaakov is being very quiet about it, which means he is _angry_ about it. Did you kidnap him?”

Yuuri turned the laptop back around so he could see Otabek. He seemed to be in a hotel room of indiscriminate nature. “No. He arrived saying he’s come to warn Viktor about something. Care to shed any light?”

“I have no more information than what I’ve already told you. Yaakov wants Viktor.”

“I _know_ why.” Yuri piped up with a broken voice. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you since I got here.”

Yuuri glanced at the prisoner, still in Mimeko’s custody, then back at the screen.

“Is there anything else you can tell me about him?”

Altin though vaguely thoughtful, then shook his head.  “Other than I’ve met him in person before, no.”

Yuuri interest was piqued. He had no delusions, Altin went where the money was and he was a useful spider, which meant everyone had a piece of him. Otabek was on his docket but he also worked for Yaakov and a dozen others too, which was why he was always in a different country.

“I thought you only dealt with Yaakov?”

“I do.” Altin replied perhaps a little more flatly than usual. “Yuri was playing errand boy one day and we crossed paths.”

Yuuri let his inquisitive gaze rest on Yuri, “Is that all?”

“That’s all.”

Yuri’s faint blush was enough to tell him that _it wasn’t_ all. Which was useful information.

“Thank you Altin.”

Altin signed off without a goodbye and Yuuri closed the laptop. He watched the blonde Russian for a time, debating internally before eventually settling.

“You may speak.”

To his astonishment, the man actually rolled his eyes.

“Thank you, finally. The reason I’m here is to find Viktor.”

“Why?” Viktor asked, deadpan.

“Because Yaakov wants you back.” Yuri supplied.

Viktor sighed. “What I think is this; Yaakov failed with Jakub and got impatient. He sent you to spy and tie me up in a neat little bow to take me back home.”

“No.” Yuri spat vehemently. He reminded Yuuri of a cat when cornered, all spit fire and bristled fur. “No, I’m here because I wanted to warn you.”

“Your warning is useless, obviously.” Yuuri told him. “Yaakov is not subtle.”

Yuri shook his head slightly. “And do you know _why_ then? Why he would bother coming back for something he threw away?”

The room was silent and eventually the blonde Russian went on. “He said this to me. ‘ _I don’t like it when strangers touch what’s mine._ ’”

Viktor huffed a shirt laugh. “You must be lying, because that makes no sense.”

“He didn’t care when you were working as a mercenary, he didn’t mind because you stayed down, you were ashamed and everyone knew it, even if they didn’t know why. He always liked showing you off, Viktor, you know this. You weren’t as satisfying as a reject, but you were an example. Of his power, of how he could any man fall and live with the shame.”

Yuuri watched the Fairy speak like he was forcing the words out, as if they hurt. “But when he heard that you were working for the Serpent…Viktor it was a mistake. He will come for you know, and finish the job. He will kill you this time, for thinking you have any pride left. You should have stayed under the snow Viktor!” the man’s voice was almost desperate, almost like weeping. But Viktor stilled as if he had been frozen.

“Stayed under the snow?” he repeated quietly. “He wanted me to die slowly where he left me?”

“Viktor…” Yuri appealed. “It _wasn’t me_ , I didn’t tell him. I saw you, and I ran but –“

“Enough.” Yuuri said with finality. He stood slowly, moving around his desk and going to stand before the kneeling man.

“Viktor did not die, is not dead, and will continue in my service. He is no longer Yaakov’s, he is _mine_. And I _look after_ _my own_.”

He saw Mimeko straighten her shoulders with pride as he said it, but Yuri was disbelieving.

“You?” he growled. “You’re like all of them, all of the elite who decide what is right or left. When we disappoint you, if we hurt your pride, we don’t matter anymore.” His eyes flashed to Viktor, “And when you discover how Viktor shamed Yaakov, you will do the same!”

Yuuri slapped him this time, not terribly hard, but enough to get the message across.

“That is not the way of the Katsuki, not while I am the Serpent’s head.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um, please don't hate me.


	18. Of things past and burnt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a filler chapter, just tying up some ends before we start towards the end.

Viktor forced the ear muffs down and barely waited for the signal light to flash before hitting the trigger over and over.

He had a range before him, each with refills, and they graduated from the smaller, subtler kind that could be hidden in a waistband or a strap, to the weightier, heavier types that weren’t designed for subtlety at all, but for leaving coin-sized holes in people. Viktor sometimes wondered at the human mind that could create a thing that could kill so efficiently, but also choose to design so many different kinds as to leave a variety of wounds. It was a testament to the fact that ultimately, humankind was shit.

It didn’t make him feel better about his job; it didn’t make him feel anything. He wasn’t looking for an excuse to do what he was very good at.

But today he needed to shoot. He needed to feel the violent aftershock in his arms, the muted thump of sound in the dimmed room as he found shadowy cardboard targets and took aim. He needed to shoot about a hundred bullets or more.

He had blocked out Yuri’s pleas for admonition but while his hands took over, his mind settled and the words came back like barbs.

Yuri was adamant he hadn’t betrayed Viktor, that he _hadn’t_ been the one to oust him that night at all. He hadn’t been lying. It meant that Yaakov had been the liar, between punches telling Viktor how Yuri had come to him in disgust, had refused to ever let his eyes rest on his mentor ever again. At the time, Viktor had been almost resigned to death, but to hear that his pupil, whom he had loved dearly and even felt a fatherly affection towards, found him repulsive had hurt in its way. But now…

To accept Yuri’s words would be to rearrange the last few years of his life, to see his burning, septic hurt at the betrayal as yet another way Yaakov had kept him from rising up again.

If it hadn’t been for Yuuri, he would still be there, still living in a kind of limbo, letting the greyness of his life slowly consume him without a fight.

But here was Kitten, come to find him and warn him, because his fear of Yaakov was _less_ than his loyalty to Viktor. At least, that was how it seemed. That after years of hearing nothing from Viktor, he was suddenly brave enough to leave Russia?

Viktor turned a coin-sized hole into a ragged-edged, plate-sized one in the silhouette of a creeping man, which was ironic in a maudlin way.

Had he hated Yuri for nothing? Could he have gone back and saved him? Had Yaakov been keeping him captive, all this time, while Yuri waited in vain for Viktor to return for him? What lies had Yaakov poured into his pupil’s ear while Viktor was content to bury himself?

And then, had Yuri still believed in their friendship enough to come and seek him out anyway?

Viktor couldn’t control the shake in his arms anymore, and his trigger fingers were too tense to pull. He threw the current weapon hard at the wall in frustration.

He would have to speak with Kitten.

 

-*-

 

_Short blonde hair, green eyes, cheeks and nose pink with cold, the man looked up at Viktor, who was likely the most glamorously beautiful creature he had ever seen._

_As Viktor cupped the man’s cheek, he smiled indulgently. He rather liked the effect he was having on this man. This man whose eyes had widened the moment he walked into the bar, and had since spent the evening ignoring his loudly American friends. Yuri was sulking over some imagined slight one of their colleagues had made towards him, but Yuri was always ornery about something. Usually, if Viktor wasn’t alone, he wouldn’t even have sent the man a second glance, but with Yuri being preoccupied (arguing with the barman over the price of the beer he drank) and this American so enraptured…. Well, Viktor was feeling unusually relaxed, and he had flirted with his eyes until the man had fallen over himself to follow Viktor out the back._

_And now here they were, the man’s breath misting small puffs in the air, already so excited that Viktor was even close to him, and Viktor hadn’t even said a word. His smile grew wider._

_“If I give you a kiss, will you faint?” Viktor asked curiously._

_The man’s eyes widened and he laughed awkwardly. “God, I’m so obvious. But you…you’re just so beautiful…”_

_Viktor smiled wider, blinking slowly. He wasn’t even dressed to pull tonight, but his hair was loose over his shoulders and the featherlite snow dusted their coats. “You are a tourist.”_

_“I’m Alan.” The man said swallowing. “You are…?”_

_Viktor shook his head still smiling beneficently, “Do names matter, when you are leaving, when, in a few days?”_

_Alan deflated a little. “Tomorrow.”_

_Viktor let his fingers trail across the man’s jaw. He was pretty, a little younger than Viktor, but his main appeal was the naked adoration shining in his green eyes. So sweet. “And so, names do not matter.”_

_He gifted the man with a kiss, a short thing, more air and murmur across his mouth than anything, and was rewarded with a fluttering sigh. The man was so clearly overwhelmed, Viktor almost considered leaving him there, but that would be a touch cruel. And he was already imagining taking him back to whatever hotel he was staying, and a night of a little fun._

_“Are you- ahem. Are you alone?” Alan asked tentatively._

_Viktor blinked at him. “Alone? And why would you ask? I am here with you aren’t I?”_

_Alan swallowed, closing his eyes against the feeling of Viktor’s hand on his face, his mouth. Viktor could visualize what that mouth would be willing to do. He preferred men like this; men who enjoyed love-making and fell into it with abandon, who were soft and sweet in the moment of climax._

_“I saw a blond guy come in with you?” this time Alan’s blush was more than the cold._

_Viktor laughed. “Him? He is my brother.”_

_Alan darted a glance to Viktor’s silver hair, and dared to touch it. “He didn’t look like your brother.”_

_Viktor shrugged. “Alright, he is not my brother, but he might as well be.” He grew tired of talking and leaned close to touch the man’s cheek with his own, feeling the roughness of stubble. “Come, tell me where you are staying and then we may…”_

_He finished off the allurement with a kiss, deeper this time, fuller, aware of how the man shuddered into it, kissing back with some reserve and a lot of lust._

_Viktor heard a scuff of shoes in the snow, and a choked gasp and his head jerked upwards._

_Yuri’s face was a mask of shock, his eyes wide enough to swallow him whole._

_“Yuri…” Viktor said hollowly, all the warmth of the previous moment vanished like so much misted breath. “Just wait…”_

_But Yuri had bolted, feet skidding in the wet snow and then was gone. That had been the last time Viktor had seen him._

 

-*-

 

 _I want to speak to Yuri_. Viktor texted that night, after arriving back late at the manor, still feeling foul and unnecessarily aggravated.

 _My door is unlocked_. Was Yuuri’s reply, and Viktor beat a quick path through the long corridors to the private dwelling, breathing heavily when he arrived there though not only from his pace. The night was properly cold now. He had been told he had been told not to expect snow in Hasetsu, only frost in the mornings. His sweat was cooling fast and his hair felt cold as it brushed against his face. His searching out found Yuuri at the kitchen island, bathed in a center of light.

Yuuri was wearing his black silk gown, drinking one of two cups of steaming coffee and looking at Viktor over the edge of his glasses calmly. Viktor felt something tight inside him give and ease slightly at the sight of him. Yuuri was the solid point, the rock that waves crashed against and unmoving in chaos. Yuuri was…

Viktor forced himself not to walk too quickly, but he still crossed the room between them in moments and falling into the kiss that was waiting for him on Yuuri’s mouth. Viktor held him closer, pulling him tight against his length, reveling in the way Yuuri’s hands found his hair and neck and _pulled_. It was the touch, the solidity of Yuuri claiming his body that settled the messy tangle of his mind clarified and he was simply there, present _against_ Yuuri and _with_ Yuuri.

His hands found Yuuri’s edges and pressed into them, letting his fingers grip the man from behind and lifting him onto the counter so he would be higher and Viktor could slide his hands beneath the silk and _feel_. Yuuri’s feet hooked behind his back, locking them together and Viktor growled into his mouth.

“Viktor.” Yuuri murmured. “I have a bed.”

“We haven’t tried the counter.” Was Viktor’s muffled reply as he suckled at his collarbone, careful not to leave anything someone might see outside a shirt collar.

“Viktor.” When Viktor ignored him Yuuri pulled him away hard using his hair. Yuuri was slightly flushed and trying to meet his gaze, so he forced himself to clear his mind.

“Sorry. Bed?” Viktor offered in mild apology.

But Yuuri’s legs had loosened. “We have things to discuss.”

Viktor flashed him a look that said that the last thing he wanted in the moment was a conversation. But Yuuri was waiting for him, patient but unyielding and Viktor sensed that Yuuri needed _this_ more than sex. He heaved a huge sigh, the winding tightness in his chest almost back, and reversed until he was against the opposite table, uncaring that his erection was clear. Yuuri didn’t take the bait, appearing as if he didn’t notice or didn’t care at all that he had stopped Viktor mid–arousal.

“Altin contacted me, and said that the likelihood Plisetsky being a plant is slim. He says he would put credit to his story.”

Viktor didn’t react, only kept his face flat and expressionless as Yuuri spoke to him.

“He has also offered to take him off our hands. Until we think we might want him back here, if ever.”

That did manage to pierce Viktor peevishness. Altin, a man who preferred always to work alone to the point where he did his own books, was offering to babysit Yuri Plisetsky? “That’s unexpected. And suspicious.”

Yuri watched him, and Viktor recognized the look Yuuri had when he was waiting to see something specific. “Perhaps. But I don’t think so.”

This left Viktor even more perplexed and he shook his head. “Why?”

“Because I think that Altin and Plisetsky maybe have had a brief affair, the last time they met,” Yuuri said simply.

Disbelief hit Viktor like a slap. “No.”

Yuuri nodded calmly. “Yes.”

“Did he say so? Do you have proof?” Viktor said, grasping. “Yuri isn’t homosexual.”

Yuuri was as immovable as always. “Perhaps he wasn’t, or isn’t, perhaps it is simply Altin, but I can say to you certainly, that there is something there. Why else would Otabek offer him sanctuary? Knowing that if Yaakov found out, he would be out for blood? Altin respects his clients and hates complications.”

“And Yuri is all complication.” Viktor finished off, disbelief still ringing in his voice. “How could I not know this?”

Yuuri’s words were more measured this time. “Did you really not know?”

Viktor’s eyes flickered back to his and caught. There were many storms inside Viktor then; Yuri Plisetsky’s presence, this sudden strange news that he and Otabek may have had an affair or were still having one, the heavy cloud of Yaakov’s renewed regard over Viktor’s life.

But the connection between he and Yuuri was always there, a live wire that only needed to be touched to send a hum through him, to set his nerve endings alert. And now he was drawn once again into the Katsuki serpent’s watchful gaze. Yuuri was testing.

Viktor stopped rubbing his jaw, pushing everything else aside and grounding himself in the connection.

“Earlier today, when we were alone, there was something…”

There it was, the flicker at the edge of Yuuri’s eyes, making Viktor hyper-aware.

He focussed his thoughts. They were speaking about Yuri, they had been talking about his secret sexuality. And before, in the haloed, intimate moment when Viktor had still been reeling from Plisetsky’s sudden presence and his accompanying news, Yuuri had seemed…worried.

The realization fell, like a feather drop. And then more so, like an anvil.

“Yuuri,” Viktor said slowly shaking his head. “No. Never him. Not even close.”

Now Yuuri’s eyes skated away from Viktor, avoiding. “Perhaps for you. But I saw him today, begging your forgiveness and understanding. You weren’t merely a friend to him; he admired you.”

Viktor shook his head. “I never…I don’t …” Viktor couldn’t even grasp the idea. “He was my student and a dear friend. I never saw anything else.”

“Then you were blind.”  Yuuri’s voice had become hard then, anger licking at the sides of his tone.

“I must have been. I still am, apparently.” Viktor acknowledged quietly.

In spite of himself, Viktor was only slowly inching towards the real reason behind Yuuri’s mercurial demeanor. Because it was too big, like so many things lately. But this thing, was more important now, right there, than anything else.

He thought of the times he had told Yuuri of his previous affairs. Never anything more serious than a few nights and anonymity. He recalled the way it had never bothered the man, right up until he thought that perhaps what he had shared with Yuri had been more. And how much it bothered him when Viktor had withdrawn into himself on Yuri’s arrival, his refusal to interrogate him.

It might seem like something a spurned lover would do.

He covered his face with his hand so Yuuri wouldn’t see his insane grin. But inside, Viktor was melting in the heat. Slowly he moved back to his _actual_ lover, where he sat still casually on the counter top like a throne, settling himself between his open legs.

Yuuri let him without complaint but was still glaring a hole in the floorboards when Viktor pressed a cheek close and whispered.

“Yuuri, it's only you. Idiot, I love _you_.”

Yuuri was still but Viktor ignored that and brought Yuuri’s hand to his mouth to kiss it.

“It doesn’t matter if you don’t feel the same, it doesn’t matter if you don’t want to. Maybe one day this will be over and you will cast me aside, but it’s still true. In my eyes, there is only you. I’m yours.”

Yuuri’s face was still turned lightly away but he spoke. “I…don’t know...”

Viktor kissed his hand again. “It’s alright. You don’t have to. Because everything you do for me, everything you are, is already enough.”

 

-*-

 

Yuuri heard the confession, that didn’t sound like a confession.

A confession meant guilt, a confession meant something had been hidden and was ugly when outside its coffin of secrecy. A confession implied the asking of forgiveness.

Viktor hadn’t confessed, he had simply stated a fact. For Yuuri’s reassurance perhaps, or to simply because he had thought it clear even though he hadn’t spoken the words.

But Yuuri had pushed him to it, yes? He, in his writhing, uncomfortable possessiveness of Viktor, had confronted him without admitting aloud that he was jealous. And here was Viktor offering himself up without reserve, once again.

It wasn’t too much for Yuuri to hear. But it gave him pause, because for once he wasn’t sure he deserved it. How could he, Katsuki Yuuri, know how to love? He wanted Viktor, yes, he desired him, and he wanted Viktor to be his and his alone, but was that love? Or was it the only way Yuuri knew how to interpret it.

He couldn’t answer. But in spite of himself, he clutched at Viktor anyway, stupidly satisfied that Viktor had not only never returned Plisetsky’s feelings, but had had no clue about them in the first place. Viktor was still wholly his, and he needed that to be true.

Once again, he hooked his legs decisively round Viktor’s tapered waist and wasted no more time on words. Plisetsky would be gone within the next two days, and Viktor was here now, kissing him and touching him and Yuuri needed no more than that, for now.

“Teach me.” He commanded.

“Anything.” Viktor acquiesced.

 

-*-

 

Viktor had volunteered to take Yuri to the café where Altin would take over custody. The drive there had been silent, with neither of them willing to break, and Viktor sifted through the last few days’ worth of drama in his mind before deciding what to say.

As they arrived, they both got out to stand against the car, facing the valley that stretched out below them. The café was set on a hill, and the parking lot empty while the rest of Hasetsu carried on beneath them; midday traffic, an indiscernible bird drifting in the sky, the distant hum of life being lived. They could only ever be spectators to this, and never a part of it.

He raised an eyebrow when Yuri fished around inside his filthy, days old clothing and produced an extremely crumpled box of cigarettes. He tried tapping one out, failing since the box was essentially spoon-shaped, and pulled it out instead. Then he patted another pocket and found a lighter. When it was lit, he breathed in deep, visibly curling around the stick like he had been longing for it all day. Which in effect, he had. As he blew the smoke out, he saw Viktor staring and shrugged a little self-consciously.

“Smoking?” Viktor asked. The Yuri he had known before had been a stickler for a healthy lifestyle.

Yuri sucked on the cigarette again. “I picked it up from Dimitri.”

They had slipped back into Russian, and speaking it so casually felt strange. English and Japanese had become so commonplace to him now.

“Before he comes to whisk me away,” Yuri said bitterly, waving a hand in a deliberately over-dramatized gesture, “Can I please say what you’ve been ignoring since I arrived?”

Viktor didn’t react, the only movement was the breeze toying with his hair. Yuri took it as acquiescence.

“It wasn’t me,” Yuri said emphatically.

Viktor huffed. “You saw, and you ran. And then they came for me.”

Yuri tried to get into Viktor line of sight, his entire body vivid and tense. “Yes, that happened, but it...it’s not that simple.” Yuri rubbed at his face. “When I ran, I wasn’t going anywhere, I was just…shocked and I didn’t know what to do… and Timur was there, he had come after me, I don’t know why. But I ran into him and it was...Viktor he _knew._ I think he had been watching you and he asked me if you were with that American with the green eyes and I didn’t say ‘no’, and he _knew_.”

Yuri, in spite of the battered face and bedraggled appearance, was appealing to Viktor, willing him to forgive him for a betrayal he had committed without intention. Viktor sighed at him. “Alright, Yuri. Alright.”

The blond man wasn’t appeased. “Do you believe me?”

“Yes, I believe you.” Viktor replied.

“Then…” Yuri said, shoulder collapsing. “Why won’t you look at me?”

Viktor rubbed at his mouth distractedly, still unable to put away the tumultuous feelings Yuri’s presence had caused. “I don’t know what to do with you, Kitten.”

Yuri fell back against the car with a thump. “I…ok.”

Viktor felt he had to add something more. “Yaakov told me you betrayed me that you thought I was less than dirt, after what you saw.”

Yuri smacked a fist into the car door. “No, that’s _not true_ Viktor. It’s _not_. After everything you did for me, after everything you were...” Yuri clamped up.

Viktor remembered Yuuri telling him that perhaps the feelings his student had had for him weren’t only friendship, but decided that bringing it up did no one any favors.

“Yuri, what did Yaakov tell you?” Viktor asked quietly.

“He told me you were a filthy abomination for fucking men. He apologized for leaving me with you for so long and asked me…if anything…”

Yuri didn’t finish the sentence and Viktor was glad for it. “I’m sorry.”

Yuri only shrugged.

“I hope…” Viktor trailed off, not knowing how to fix any damage Yaakov may have done, how to smooth over the rough edges of Yuri’s life in light of what he had done. How sure would Yaakov have been that Yuri hadn’t been influenced by Viktor’s preferences? Would he have hurt Yuri? Did Viktor even want to know?

“Ai, kitten, I’m sorry. He broke me, and I couldn’t know to come for you.”

Yuri flashed him an angry glare. “I didn’t expect you to. I’m not a child.”

Viktor almost smiled. “Of course not. And clearly, you are stronger than I am, because you left now, yes?”

Yuri grunted. “It doesn’t matter. I can’t go back now.”

“Altin will look after you.” Viktor said, with only hint of question in his voice. He was rewarded when Yuri threw down the butt of his cigarette, crushing it viciously under his sneaker before finding and lighting up another straight away. This time Viktor did smile.

“Oh really, kitten?” he said, with a hint of lewdness.

“Shut up.” Yuri growled.

“I thought we were catching up?” Viktor pressed lightly. “What happened when you two last met exactly?”

Viktor had never seen a cigarette smoked angrily before, but Yuri made it work. “Nothing.”

“You are very upset over ‘ _nothing_ ’.” Viktor retorted. “Or is because you wanted a ‘ _something_ ’ and got a ‘ _nothing_ ’ instead?”

More angry smoking.

“Altin was the one who offered to take you, you know.” Viktor said, hoping to ease Yuri’s tension. With the blonde man eyes staring holes in the dirt, it was hard to tell if it worked.

Eventually, Yuri broke. “Otabek…I’m not sure. I’m still trying to figure it out. And I couldn’t do anything with Yaakov looking over my shoulder. He is already suspicious because I haven’t had any girlfriends.”

Viktor felt a glimmer of the solicitude he had had for Yuri before, the feeling he had cut out of himself three years ago, rear its head. It was a small thing, and in spite of his warnings, he leaned into it, because truthfully he had missed his little friend. The one who had given him an extremely fluffy puppy as a joke about Viktor being unable to care for anyone but himself. The one who had helped him finish many a bottle of cheap liquor. The man who had once been a boy, and with whom he formed a very rare kind of friendship.

“Yuri…I wish you could have told me.”

Yuri shook his head. “I never could have.”

“I know. How long?”

Yuri exhaled a large, smelly cloud of smoke. “I don’t think I knew until you were gone.”

That hurt, struck Viktor like a tiny shard of glass. But it was a past thing, and he couldn’t take responsibility for it.

Their lives were so ridiculously caged. Both of living lies because they could never admit otherwise under Yaakov’s eye.

But they weren’t there anymore. Viktor had Yuuri, and…

“Well, if you need any help in that direction, just call.” Viktor offered with a smile.

Yuri gave him an adorably shocked look, like a rabbit in headlights and Viktor laughed.

“Has he kissed you?” Viktor needled, unexpectedly delighted.

“No!” Yuri shot back. “ _I_ kissed _him_!”

Viktor laughed at the face Yuri had just then, for outing himself and then being angrily embarrassed about it. “Good for you. Some men are too slow. Otabek looks like the type to stew in his thoughts until he becomes stone rather than act on them.”

Yuri crossed his arms and leaned back against the car with a thump and Viktor let it lie.

Eventually, Yuri spoke. “Are you happier here? Working for the Katsuki?”

Viktor nodded a brief, ‘Yes’.

“And the serpent? He won’t...does he know?”

Viktor grinned. “Yes.”

Yuri nodded, missing the look on Viktor’s face since he was still blushing and trying to hide it.

“I’m glad then. I…am worried for you now though. Me coming to warn you will only have made things worse.”

Viktor had to acknowledge that this was very likely true. “Well, Katsuki Yuuri didn’t lie, he looks after us. Even me.”

Yuri shook his head in disbelief. “I hope that is true.”

Viktor knew that Yuri had doubts because he couldn’t conceive of a master who cared his underlings the way Yuuri did. How could he? Even Viktor had found himself continually surprised by it, and it was a huge part of the reason why he had fallen in love with the man.

“Maybe one day, you can return and you can see it for yourself.”

A sleek black Porsche came up the hill them and parked a short distance away. As the two Russian men watched, Otabek slid out of the passenger side, wearing more black and a leather jacket that even Viktor had to admit was very pretty.

He leaned a little closer to Yuri, was seemed fixed to the spot. “Got get him, Kitten.”

Yuri looked ready to hit him but Viktor only winked and stepped back. Yuri huffed and crushed his second cigarette butt and walked up to the back car with hunched shoulders.

“You’re filthy,” Otabek commented. “And you stink.”

“You trying being locked up in a grey cell for three days and come out squeaky clean and smelling of roses.” Yuri snapped back.

Viktor watched them leave, before lowering himself back into his small blue fiat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> notes and comments always welcome. and questions, if you have any.
> 
> warning; the next few chapters may take some time, because they're a bit hectic and I want to get it right.


	19. Inside the mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, it's very short, but it's setting up for the rest of the story.

Pichit couldn’t sleep.

He didn’t often sleep, not truly. He just went into a state of vague stasis, and sometimes he might have dreamt, but more often than not, he couldn’t tell the difference between those images behind his eyes and reality. It all looked the same, all written with the same uneven, unsteady hand, like whoever had written Pichit had been drunk at the time.

There were days when everything was painfully painted in primary colours, and on those days he ground his teeth hard. The only way to relive himself on those days was to cut, to bleed the colour out of people.

And there were days when everything was a symphony of blacks and greys and whites, when people like shadows through the world, except for him. On those days, the only person in colour was Katsuki Yuuri.

On _those_ days, only Katsuki Yuuri could touch him. When everyone else only saw his teeth, Katsuki Yuuri touched his head and told him to tame the beast.

And only for Katsuki Yuuri would he try.

Pichit knee he was mad. But he knew it like he knew the sky was blue sometimes. It was just a thing. A thing of a thing. A thing of a thing of a thing....

He had long stopped questioning it, why Katsuki Yuuri was the centre of his universe, why he was the one who would be obeyed when he was ready to set fire to the walls. Perhaps it was because Katsuki was the serpent, who swayed and hypnotised and bit. Maybe it was because Katsuki knew when to let the leash lie slack and when to pull it in.

It didn’t matter, in the end. Pichit would gladly have been bitten if Katsuki Yuuri wished it. He would bare his neck for the fangs.

Because... _he_ was Pichit and _he_ was Katsuki Yuuri and for as long as Pichit could remember with any clarity, they had been two objects drawn into each other’s orbit and that was right, that was so.

So the fact that sleep fled him in the same way that everyone but his master did, was no hardship for Pichit.

And the Russian had come. Suddenly, there was another planet in Katsuki Yuuri’s orbit and Pichit had reacted in the only way a trained dog like him could. He had barked and frothed and bitten, even when Katsuki had told him to stop. He couldn’t stop.

He _couldn’_ t have. Yuuri had to be _protected_.

And then….the Russian hadn’t been afraid of him. And when Pichit bit into him in the only ways allowed to him, he had simply waited until Pichit let go, his slow blue gaze unwavering.

He was not afraid of Pichit. He saw Pichit and didn’t look away.

He smiled at Pichit.

He gave Pichit the chance prove his _worth_ , to _prove_ that he wasn’t valueless, that he was _something_.

The Russian understood why Pichit sometimes _needed_ to slice into skin in order to bleed colour out of the world.

He gave Pichit a beautiful, intricate set of knives for no other reason than he had promised it.

Pichit still couldn’t trust, couldn’t stop the burning itch under his skin at the thought of someone else allowed into Yuuri’s presence without challenge. But he didn’t want to bite anymore. And he liked the knives an awful lot.

But there was one night, when sleep was a concept Pichit only heard about and didn’t understand, that he prowled the hallways instead, angling paintings so that they hung straight. Readjusting vases to better display their beauty. Checking the skirting boards for a build-up of dust.

The night’s sentries shuffled out of his way, because wasn’t shy about leaving a nick or two here and there if he felt like it.

He wondered if the Russian would be bringing back the dog anytime soon. He liked to race.

He was padding his way back to his own room, when he saw through the window a sight that confused him.

The Russian, out in the snow, barefoot and walking to his master’s house. Immediately the beast reared and bayed.

Then he saw the door open for the Russian, and saw his master only move aside so that the Russian could enter. He saw it, and didn’t understand it. He stared at the closed door long after. He felt something hard and heavy thudding in his chest.

The beast _whined_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you get him a little more now. Pichit has wormed his way into my sympathies and I needed to give him some page.


	20. Obsession

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so I hope this chapter makes sense and flows well.  
> Some fight scenes, i hope they make sense too because I'm not too good at those.
> 
> Things are tensing up now, and will be for the next couple of chapters.

It was a month of quietude.

Well, for a given value of 'quietude'. Shadows are ever present after all. Yuuri and Minako were opening a new chain of tea houses along the western shore, and coming up against a few snags. Snags being the kind of clientele who didn’t understand the exact nature of an upmarket tea house, and were in need of re-education on the matter.

And then there were trades to be made with Amery, and the O’Donnell’s had come in under the Katsuki umbrella, which made a very lucrative gateway into the Irish weapons trafficking highways, which in turn meant setting up communications with Altin and his connections with the police. Anyone who thought that the law didn’t make use of the criminal underground to further their causes was naïve. It was simply a matter of making sure they remained unseen, to step _here_ while stepped _there_.

Viktor decided to bring Makkachin for another visit, because Phichit seemed twitchier than usual, and the dog always cheered him up. Or at least, Viktor assumed so. Phichit seemed less likely to snap at least, which was the same thing.

When the very woolly dog came saw the small man, he bounded up to him, leaving wet footprints on the carpet and smearing melting snow on Phichit’s black jeans. At first, he stared at Makkachin like he was an unfamiliar sight, before kneeling down and allowing himself to be nuzzled and loved. But he wasn’t smiling. No, the entire time, he stared at Viktor, like Viktor was the unfamiliar thing now, a curious specimen under glass.

“Is something wrong, Phichit?” Viktor inquired, thinking perhaps the madman was in a mood.

Phicht stood slowly, his too-bright eyes never leaving Viktor’s face. “Is there?”

Then he turned and walked away, running an absent hand through Makkachin's furry head.

 

-*-

 

“You must know, Snake, that he is mine. Why not return him to me? He is only a tool for the hand.” Yaakov rough voice sounded over the microphone on Yuuri’s laptop.

Yuuri exhaled smoke slowly, watching how the late evening light falling through his window made it glow.

“You are like a child. You threw your toy away, and now you only want it because someone else has it.”

“It is a broken toy. Why not give it back then?”

Yuuri didn’t answer immediately and made a show of being contemplative. “The American’s have a saying; ‘ **Finder’s Keepers** ’. And besides, I find him very useful. Perhaps you broke him in all the right ways.”

“So you are content to pick up my rubbish? Like a scavenger?” Yaakov threw back at him. He was, as Yuuri had heard, not a patient sort of man.

Yuuri stubbed out his half cigar on the ashtray, blowing out the last of the smoke. “You are trying to bait me. It will not work. This is a courtesy call only, Yaakov Alexei Feltsman. I have no intention of giving Viktor over to you, nor does he want to return to your loving embrace. Is that clear?”

Yaakov’s already severe and ugly face, darkened. “You are a fool _Snake_. You think I will not come to take what’s mine?”

“What you seek to do is to take what’s _mine_.” Yuuri corrected, mildly. “Anyone who bears the serpent belongs to me.”

“Your youth is why you are both bold and stupid. I knew your father, and I may have respected _him_ , but I do not fear _you_ , little boy.” Yaakov spat.

Yuuri raised an eyebrow. “Are we dealing in fear then? Very well. Was your father not a hat maker, Feltsman? In fact, was it not my father who was suspected in having a hand in setting his little shop alight, so many years ago now?” Yuuri gave him a slow, bored look. “You were _quite_ afraid then. Did you not learn from the lesson?”

There was an enraged shout from the other end of the call before the line went abruptly dead, the screen black.

Yuuri closed the laptop with a succinct click.

 

-*-

 

 Up until then, Yaakov hadn’t had much of a presence yet. For obvious reasons, he had kept his rather flat nose out of Japan for fear of the Katsuki, but he had a temper and Viktor knew it well. Yuuri’s blatant dismissal of his demands would not go unchallenged.

It would still take some time for Viktor to realize that Yaakov wasn’t going to give up.

His presence became an insidious thing like the way mold grows in the dark and damp corners of a home. It started with a shipment gone awry, perhaps misdirected, perhaps pirated offshore. Another week, one of the weapons storehouses got blown up, and almost everyone inside burnt and killed, and those who weren’t, were in severe pain in hospitals rooms. It was only when one of Minako’s tea houses were raided when bullets were embedded in the water-colored wallpaper and the merchandise there were raped and broken, that they realized Yaakov had weaseled his way into Japan under their noses.

When a pale, straight haired girl had bowed, shaking before Minako and given her a brown felt hat, the message had been made clear.

Yuuri was furious and Viktor was a sword in a sheath for him. They tracked down those who were working with Yaakov, as well as the few rats he had sent to infiltrate the little dens and coves around Japan. Christophe was put on high alert, combing the digital grapevine for leads or rumors. Viktor advised against calling in Altin, as it would only be asking him to choose sides and he wouldn’t.

So began a gory tennis match. A Russian woman who had been caught inside one of the Katsuki’s factories was sent back to Russia by boat, alive, in a coffin. Whether she arrived alive or not was not a concern.

The next man they found got the same treatment, but this time his coffin was filled with snakes.

Others they found were not sent back at all, only parts of them, such as a hand or foot or an ear with an earring still attached. The notes said; “T _his isn’t very useful anymore_.”

It couldn’t go on of course, even though Phichit found it very entertaining and was more than happy to carve off pieces of people while they were still conscious enough to know it. Viktor could see it in the tensing of Yuuri’s shoulders, a tension he couldn’t ease even at night.

“It’s because of me,” Viktor said to him one night, stroking a thumb down the valley of Yuuri’s spine as they lay on the bed.

“It’s because he does not understand ‘no.’ He is a child, and he must be taught. We will deal with him.”

“How?”

But Yuuri didn’t answer.

 

-*-

 

Then Yuuko and Toshiro went missing.

For a week, their home carer was called in to care for the triplets. It wasn’t unusual for their parents to be gone, they knew their work demanded this sometimes. They went on about their lives as usual, in the way the three almost teenage girls can manage to make everything about themselves and block out the unpleasantness of real life.

In the Katsuki Manor, things were not so feckless. They had searched everywhere, all the places they knew and they didn’t. They had upended little nests of informants and dredged every sewer, but come up with nothing. Yuuri bit his way through cigars as he came upon dead end after dead end.

Viktor felt the guilt gnawing at his chest bone, making a cavity there that nothing could fill, and it made him throw himself out into the cold Hasetsu winter, searching and searching.

Until one day, he found them. Afterwards, he knew he'd been set up to discover them.

“Viktor,” Toshiro sobbed, clutching his wife’s bloody body, barely able to squeeze the tears out of swollen eyes. “She needs…she needs…”

In that moment, Viktor’s courage had nearly fled him. He had shushed Toshiro’s stuttering and gone close to the hulking man and the small, broken figure he held. Viktor almost wept himself when he felt a pulse, fluttering weakly against his fingers.

“Blood loss.” the doctor had told him and the rest who had gathered at their sick beds later that day. “Broken legs, ribs, head contusions….” The list went on, shocking in the fact that these familiar injuries were being inflicted on their own blood. On Yuuko, who had never looked so small.

Viktor couldn’t stop staring at Toshiro and Yuuko’s left hands. Specifically, their rings fingers, which had been cut off.

The fingers that had held the Katsuki rings.

On Viktor’s way out to find something to eat, Phichit caught him in the hallway by the arm. Viktor observed the contact then met the insane little mans’ fevered gaze.

“Who is to blame Viktor?”

Viktor swallowed, recalling the barely living Yuuko, kept alive and tortured for a days. And the men and women being murdered and snagged by Yaakov’s men in the last few weeks. The look on Yuuri’s face when another Katsuki member was lost.

He shook off Phichit’s hand and escaped.

 

-*-

 

 Yuuri was pushing his glasses up his nose and making them two cups of coffee, with a severe look to his features.

“Yuuri, this cannot go on. He doesn’t care how many men he loses.” Viktor told him.

“I am seeing that, yes.” Yuuri replied, and Viktor could hear the aggravation.

“I think we need to call Altin now. Not to bring him into this, but for Yuri. He has been there most recently, he can help us think out an effective strategy. I was there too long ago to be of any use, but Yuri would know things that will help us.”

Viktor knew now, that Yaakov would not stop until he had his way. And he couldn’t watch any more people hurt over him.

“Or…” Viktor trailed off. Yuuri glanced up at him distractedly.

“Hmm?”

Viktor sucked in a steadying breath, willing peace into his centre, trying to work around the ever-growing void in his chest. “Yuuri, am I really worth keeping, at the risk of their lives? At the risk of Yaakov crippling you here?”

Yuuri gaze went from interested to furious in seconds and Viktor’s went on quickly. “Because he _will_ , Yuuri. He won’t give in. He is exactly as you say-“

“Stop.” Yuuri snapped.

“I will not.” Viktor replied hotly. “And neither will he.”

Yuuri set his coffee down exaggerated care before saying tightly. “You would give in now, and go back to him. Now.”

Viktor couldn’t reply to that without inciting more wrath, so he didn’t, he only waited, feeling the distance between him and his lover was growing every second. But he waited.

“You want to go back?” Yuuri eventually said.

Viktor sighed. “There are so many things I don’t want. You and the Katsuki being held accountable for my sake is one of them.”

“No.”

“Yuuri…”

“I said no!” Yuuri snapped and it was the first time Viktor had heard him raise his voice. This mouth dropped open in surprise.

“I said you are mine.” Yuuri bit out. “I have said it to him and I have said it to you. Is that clear?”

Viktor closed his eyes. It might have been prayer, it might have been resignation.

“I will speak to Altin. He does not have to take part, but I’m calling in the life debt your little fairy owes me and we will make it clear that Yaakov should have stayed in Russia.”

Yuuri said no more before stomping away from the kitchen and Viktor that night.

 

-*-

 

Viktor was on his way to the bathhouse, and was pleased to see a series of sentries posted on his way there, except for at the bathhouse itself, where he knew those guarding it would strive to remain unseen.

Yuuko and Toshiro were healing, although there was still something unpleasantly muted about their demeanors still. But they stayed at home, with their children and Yuuri had been adamant to give them whatever they needed. Even though they were both on the mats that day, Viktor could see the slight tremble in Yuuko’s thigh as she kicked high. She had glared at that, and Viktor could see the shame in her eyes at her own weakness, so he made sure he sparred with her alone that day. They would work up her strength again, both in mind and body. He would help her remember she was not weak. Not the rabbit, but the snake.

Altin had arrived two days before, Yuri in tow and looking better kept than before, his fair face back to its normal prettiness. He and Altin pretended not to know each other, for all that they went everywhere together, and spoke in short snappy sentences. Whatever was going on between them would remain private, but he hadn’t heard any news that Altin planned to get rid of him.

Yuri had offered all he could about Yaakov current state of affairs. He knew nothing of the financial situation at all, but he told them about Yaakov current favorites, a pair called Mila Babicheva and Georgi Popovich.

“They are not normal people.” Yuri said jutting a chin out at Phichit. “They remind me of him. Twisted so tight that when they untwist…” Yuri made a bizarre, explosive action with his hands before stuffing them back into his part leather, part faux tiger print jacket.

Phichit glared at him. “What would you know about it, fairy?”

“I know that when I look in your eyes I see flames, you crazy little fuck.” Yuri spat back.

“I’ll burn your stupid yellow hair in your sleep!”

There was a small clearing of the throat from Yuuri and they fell silent, still shooting daggers with their eyes at each other. Viktor could have sworn Altin grinned a little.

“Anyway, they are frightening, I think even Yaakov keeps an eye open at night now that he’s recruited them.  They’re the ones he uses when he wants a job done effectively but _not_ quickly. You don’t want to get to a point where you deal with them.”

At a slight ‘ahem’ from Altin, Yuri shifted in his seat, looking apologetically at the Katsuki head. “That’s my opinion. They’re dangerous, is what I am saying.”

Yuuri sat silently in his chair across the lawyer’s desk and managed to convey to Yuri without a word that he was quite dangerous too.

Yuri cleared his throat. “I can tell you how to get into his office. He liked to make me visit him there, to ‘check-up’ on me. So I know where that is.”

“And I can help Christophe get into his internal database, if you still want to launch your other idea.” Altin added quietly, adjusting the cuff of his suit. Yuuri’s flashing coin halted for a moment.

“You don’t have to be part of this fight. If he learns it was you…”

Altin seemed unruffled. “The he will. I have my own business to settle with him, now. Besides, I’ve never particularly enjoyed working with him, and I won’t lose any other clients from losing his business.”

There was a complicated silence in which Viktor noticed Yuri giving Altin a sidelong glance, face inscrutable.

“Fine.” Yuuri finalized. “I will call Christophe and you and he can begin now, if you are ready?”

Altin nodded that he was, and stood. The idea they spoke of was that Altin had contacts that owed him enough of large favors to allow them access into one or more of Yaakov’s bank accounts. The plan was to drill a digital hole in the bottom of them, allowing the money to leak out quietly over a period of days. With the distraction Yuuri was planning on providing, the missing cash wouldn’t be noticed until it was too late.

Viktor had wanted to invite Yuri along to his dinner date with Yuuri’s mother, but considering the last time, they’d met, Yuri had still been a criminal he decided it would be unwise. And besides, the kitten didn’t know about Viktor and a certain snake boss. Viktor wasn’t sure if he ever would. It was the least of his worries in any case.

So he entered the bathhouse early, knowing that Yuuri would be joining them in little over an hour for dinner. He helped chop vegetables, put a pot of water on to boil and was then chased out of the kitchen with a gentle shooing. He considered a bath but settled on the outside veranda instead, throwing sticks for Makkanin until he got lazy and lay his head into Viktor’s lap instead. Evening was approaching, and with its arrival the warmth of the day seeped away, leaving behind chill. Viktor searched for stars in the gloaming, feeling disquieted.

Then Makkachin’s head shot up. He looked out into the dark, then into the house, his body going rigid under Viktor’s hand.

Then Makkachin growled. It took Viktor a moment to realize it, because as far as he knew the hound had never done that before.

Then there was a tinkle of fallen glass from within and Viktor was a mere blur as Makkachin raced beside him.

In the kitchen, Yuuri’s mother was backed up against the wall, holding a knife out in front of her with a shaking hand. The man she was trying to defend herself against was smiling as if she was cute for trying, but noticed Viktor quickly and like a ghost, Viktor had snatched the knife from her and push himself between them. He didn’t waste time wondering; the mans’ own weapon was a common switch blade and hardly a threat. But the man was large and Viktor had to duck under his arm to sink the chopping knife between his ribs. Viktor felt a sting at his shoulder where he was sliced at, but ignored it in favour of pulling the knife out. stabbing again and _twisting_. This time the man cried out and fell, enough for Viktor to make a ragged cut across his jugular.

He heart was pounding uncomfortably as he turned to the crouching woman behind him. Makkachin wasn’t barking, but he was still rigid and Viktor knew the man wasn’t alone. How else would he have gotten past the sentries? No-one was coming to help now.

“Is there somewhere you can hide, okaa-san?” he asked, even though she wasn’t _his_ mother. When she didn’t answer he urged. “Please, okaa-san. I will kill them but I need you to be safe.”

She nodded jerkily, and he helped her to the small room she called her own, and he tucked her away in the cupboard at the one end. Then he pulled Makkachin in front of its closed door.

“Stay.” He commanded. “You stay.”

As he crept out of the room again, his spare hand found the phone in his back pocket. He struggled to open the lock screen, because the blood smeared across it confused the sensors. But eventually he did, and he speed dialled the first number.

Before Yuuri could answer, another assailant came out from the room that led to the baths. Viktor was caused by surprise and dropped the phone, feeling a hard blow to the side of his head and knocking him into the wall. He dodged the second blow and slashed blindly with the knife while his vision unblurred.

As the fight continued, he found he was fighting against two sets of arms and legs, and a second assassin had joined them in the narrow hall. His arms spun and his body ducked and whirled between flashing blades. He caught sight of a gun in a holster on the second man, and using his elbow to deter him, he managed to wrestle it out.

“I don’t usually use guns,” he said, taking a quick shot to the man’s head and watching it snap back with satisfaction. “But when you’re in a corner.”

The second shot missed at first, but the third didn’t, and the last man went down with a grunt. He wasn’t quite dead yet, so Viktor lifted his head using his hair as a lever.

“ _How many of you are there?”_ he asked in Russian.

The man coughed weakly. “ _Fuck you_.”

“ _No thank you.”_ Viktor replied letting his drop again onto the wood floor and fishing him with a shot in his ear. Then he checked the bodies for more cartridges. The noise would have attracted the rest of them whoever they were.

On cue, he had just gotten back to the kitchen, keeping Yuuri’s mothers room in sight, when another two, a man and a women came in through the door. He leveled the gun at them, but had to duck out of the way to avoid their own bullets. There weren’t many places to hide in that kitchen so Viktor took the risk, and let two bullets fly past his shoulder as he squeezed his own trigger. They were clumsy shots, but they hit home, and gave him enough of a pause to come closer and put another three bullets in the man, and shoot another into the woman. He stood on the weeping wound in her belly hard.

“ _How many are of you are here?_ ” he asked again.

“ _Yaakov will have you in the end Vitya_.” The women choked out.

“ _Obviously not, if you were the ones sent for me_.” Viktor replied, ending her life as easily as he did the others.

Then he waited.  He didn’t want to leave the house in case another came through one of the other doors and found Yuuri’s mother and Makkachin, but he had no way of knowing how many there were. He inched back to where his phone had fallen and found it had been stepped on and the screen a web of broken glass. He sighed. It was probably broken.

He went back into the room where she hid and opened her door slowly, pulling Makkachin away.

“It’s alright, okaa-san. But you need to stay here until more help comes alright? I need to use your phone.”

Viktor’s heart hurt to see the mix of fear and determination in her face when she nodded to him and kept her silence. But he reminded himself that she was once the wife of Toshiya Katsuki, and that must have given some steel to her spine, even if she refused to live at the manor. He slid the door closed again and rubbed Makkanin head before going to find one of the panic buttons Yuuri had had installed around the house since the last scare. And then the ancient landline she used as a phone for the bathhouse itself.

He was about to press the numbers when a dark shadow caught his eye and he whirled around.

There was a red haired woman there, and she was holding Phichit with a knife to his throat. Already, the blood had made a wide, red sheet across his skin, but it wasn’t deep enough to be fatal.

They stared at one another in silence, Viktor frozen and the woman grinning.

“ _Viktor Silver Nikiforov_.” She purred as if she wasn’t manhandling another human. “ _I am have wanted to meet you for ever. I am Mila Babicheva_.”

Phichit writhed but she pressed the knife closer and he hissed angrily, still looking at Viktor like they were in the middle of a pleasant conversation.

“ _I’ve heard of you_.” Viktor replied eventually, putting the receiver back in its cradle. She smiled a girlish, innocent smile.

“ _I am very glad to hear that. You were my idol for a long time, so it’s flattering_.”

Viktor looked to Phichit, who was wheezing slightly in her iron hard neck hold. “ _Is that necessary?_ ”

Mila laughed a tinkly little laugh. “ _I think so. He tried to stab me at least twice, and I really wanted to speak to you.  I even had a little crush on you.”_ She admitted. “ _I was a little sad when I heard you were, you know, **not** into women_.”

She laughed again and the sound was like ants over his skin. “ _Now I’m the one who is flattered_.” He said flatly.

“ _Oh ho, Viktor, I think you lie. But that is alright, I am here on business anyway_.”

Viktor gripped his gun, but it was still pointed at the floor. “ _If your business is me, then you can let him go_.”

“What are you saying?” Phichit demanded and earned himself a small smack.

“Hush, little dog.” She told him in English then turned back to Viktor. “ _Now, I am only actually here to deliver a message. For now_.”

“So _deliver it. Or was it necessary for you send in five men ahead of you before you could?”_

“ _Oh don’t act as if you didn’t enjoy yourself. We’ve been getting your little **presents** after all_.”

Viktor waited and she gave him a pensive look. “ _You know, you looked so much better with longer hair_.”

This time Viktor shooting arm swung up instantly, impatient with her taunting, but her knife was quick to return to Phichit’s throat.

“ _Alright, just making conversation_.” She tutted. “ _The message is this; a man can only bend his knees for one master in his lifetime, and after that, his knees will be cut off_.”

“ _If that’s your message it’s on repeat. Yaakov has been having that tantrum for a while now_.”

“ _Ah but look around you Vitya. You see how close Yaakov has come? To your colleagues, your employer’s mother_ ,” she leaned closer, her voice purring and sweet again. “ _Your lover_?”

Viktor strove not to let his face betray anything, but she only laughed that high, tinkling laugh again. “ _Oh yes, Yaakov knows. We all know, Vitya, why he clings to you so tightly. The question remains, how long will you let him, knowing that your presence is destroying his house_?”

There was a crunch of tires skidding in the front of house and she perked up, her smile debutant bright. “ _And that is my cue. I loved our talk. I hope to carry it on soon. Ah, and here is a parting gift._ ”

As she flung Phichit’s body aside and dashed away she tossed something else into the air over her shoulder, Viktor tried to follow but her legs were already disappearing out the hallway window as the front door to the kitchen was wrenched open.

At Viktor's feet were two gold rings.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)


	21. Jealousy and Guilt are good friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOOOOOOOOO kay!  
> Had to delete the first time I uploaded this because the formatting was having a brain fart moment.  
> This looks waaay better.
> 
> Sorry to everyone who read the shitty version, and thank you for the heads up.

It was the feeling of his heart beating through his chest, thumping so hard he could hear it in his ears.

It was the fear of Yuuri’s mother’s face as he drew her out from her hiding place.

It was the very slight tremble in her hands as she was led gently to a waiting car to take her to the Manor.

It was the blood soaking into floor boards worn by feet and time. Wood was not like stone, it had memory and the stains would not wash out, Viktor knew.

It was the four bodies of the sentries who had been found by Babicheva, each one of them had a bloody gouge where left eyes had once been.

It was Pichit holding a dishtowel to the open wound in his neck all the way back.

It was the fact that Yuuri hadn’t looked him in the eyes once.

It was the fact that as he drove back alone, Hasetsu looked so very beautiful at night.

 

-*-

Yuuri had forgone the cigar since he kept chewing through the ends and was pacing back and forth the length of his office, his coin never leaving his hand for more than a few seconds

His mother. They had found out and come for his mother. This was more than just bad manners.

This was acid boiling in his belly. This was opening the grate of the lion’s den and stepping back. This was venom welling up in the cavities of his teeth.

His mother was not happy about being moved to the manor, but he hadn’t given her room to argue this time. He allowed her a separate room at least, within the manor walls, as she refused to stay under the same roof his father once had. He promised her it would be temporary, but it had been a hollow appeasement only. He doubted he would ever let her go back there again. She wouldn’t want to, unless he replaced all the flooring.

The coin sailed into the air until gravity caught it and brought it down again, landing between thumb and forefinger and starting its circuit again.

Yuuri didn’t rage, he was not an untamed thing like Pichit or Yaakov. When Yuuri saw his target, he honed his intent, with the certainty of the outcome.  So he lazered his mind. The holes had already been drilled into the bottom of Yaakov’s accounts, but it wasn’t enough. The lesson would not be learned, and he knew he would have to more his father now than usual.

“Enter.” He said when a knock came at the door. Pichit entered, still in bloodied black clothing and a thick bandage around his neck, but his eyes were black and expectant.

“Have you found where Yaakov held Yuuko and Toshiro yet?” Yuuri asked without preamble, still keeping his pace.

Pichit shook his head. “They weren’t at the docks, like Altin said. We sent someone to scout the Inori District earlier, maybe they had more luck.”

“We don’t need luck.” Yuuri said curtly. “Why weren’t you with them? I thought you were spearheading the search?”

Pichit touched his bandage absently and looked away. “Viktor asked me to go there tonight…to visit the dog.”

Yuuri startled a little at that. “He asked you…and you went?”

Pichit seemed cowed then. “I apologise, boss. I didn’t think it would be a problem… and even though I was there I couldn’t help…”

Yuuri could already see the beginnings of a self-destructive spiral in the way Pichit was tugging at his hair and fidgeting and he didn’t have the mental space to deal with. “Fine. Follow up on the team, see if they found anything.”

Pichit’s eyes still looked wide and watery and Yuuri snapped. “Do it.”

Pichit visibly snapped out of the weak-willed subservient personality and was back to business, his mood instantly changed. He nodded curtly and left again. Yuuri clutched at the coin before setting it spinning again.

He hated the thought of venturing out of his own territory into another’s because it was messy and had too many variables, but something had to be done.  He considered calling favours, even though involving other mobs was almost always more tiresome than it was worth, but in this case, he could make an exception.

Settling himself calmly into his chair, he began to make some calls.

-*-

Viktor was getting stitched. He wouldn’t even have noticed the gash if someone hadn’t pointed it out, but it turned out to be a bit more than a scratch. He tolerated the doctor’s ministrations, staring blankly at the cold tiled floor while Makkanin sniffed in corners.

When the dog perked up, and went tail wagging to the door, he looked up to see Pichit kneeling down to greet him. The white bandage was huge on his neck, and stood out against his black clothes. Viktor could see where the blood had run into the fabric by the way the cloth was stiffening.

Then Pichit turned his odd gaze on him and Viktor felt himself coil inwards. It didn’t matter that Pichit was fanatically insane, because he was right and Viktor saw it all in the glance.

Viktor was to blame. No-one else.

The dark Frenchman, who only spoke English or Japanese, played tolerantly with Makkanin while the doctor finished but Viktor knew he was waiting. Ignoring the pain pills the doctor offered him, he didn’t bother pulling his shirt back on over his head, since he would be going straight back to his room to shower, and Pichit fell into step beside him soundlessly.

“What will you do now, Silver?” Pichit inquired politely.

“What do you mean?” Viktor hedged.

“It was your fault they were there.” Pichit said, fingers beginning to pull away the bandage around his throat. “Those men had their eyes removed because of you.”

“That happened because Babicheva is insane.” Viktor replied, turning the corner into his hallway. Pichit had unwound the white cloth and dropped it on the floor carelessly, touching at the slit in his neck. It was only held closed with surgical tape, since it wasn’t deep enough to stitch, and Pichit fingered at it almost curiously.

“I know. I recognise it.” Pichit said simply. “Still, the fact remains, she was there for you. And if you had run out of time, would the Boss’s mother now be dead?”

Viktor halted before his door, hoping to conceal how he had suddenly become breathless. Pichit had turned to face him, head hanging to one side like a string less puppet and stretching the skin, as if trying to pull it apart again.

“Stop it.” Viktor hissed.

“Who will be next, Silver? Me?” Pichit pushed a fingernail into the cut, starting a thin stream of bright red blood but he didn’t flick an eye.

“Or will Katsuki Yuuri be the next to lose his eye or finger, because Yaakov only wants you?”

Viktor stared at the ghastly image of Pichit in silent horror. Pichit removed his finger and sucked the blood off thoughtfully.

“I will take care of the dog, when you go.” He added as an afterthought.

Viktor wasn’t breathing anymore, because everything inside the thin shell of his body had disappeared into the void. Slowly, his hand dug into his pocket and found its treasure. He handed to gold rings over to Pichit, who took them reverently.

For the first and last time, Pichit offered Viktor a small bow. “Thank you.”

Viktor went into the darkness of his room without another word.

 

-*-

This time Viktor didn’t wait for an invitation. Just like the first time they’d met, Viktor took the initiative for himself.

When he slid the door closed behind him, he found Yuuri sitting on the couch in the centre of the recessed floor, nursing a Tumblr of something amber. His eyes flicked up towards him in mild surprise and away again. Viktor savoured the moment, that he could enter without invitation now, that the door had remained unlocked for him.

Viktor went down the steps, leaving damp footprints on the floor and went to kneel before his lover, waiting for him to make eye contact. And when he did, Viktor reached up rub a warm line over Yuuri’s thighs.

“Since when don’t you wait for an invitation?” Yuuri asked.

“Since when do you leave your door unlocked?” Viktor said sliding himself closer so he could push him arms down Yuuri’s sides. Yuuri didn’t move to oblige, but he didn’t stop him either.

Viktor didn’t apologize, not out loud. But his kisses were gentle as he found Yuuri’s neck, his fingers were light and stroking.

“Your martyrdom is becoming tiresome.” Yuuri commented, taking a sip from his drink.

Viktor ignored the tone and took the drink from his hand, and put it aside. Then very firmly cupped Yuuri’s face in his hands, directing his line of sight.

“Very well.”

Threading his arms once more around Yuuri’s waist, he gripped and yanked him closer. Yuuri made a briefly angry sound when he caught Viktor’s shoulder so he wouldn’t fall over. Viktor smothered it with a hard kiss, catching Yuuri’s open mouth with his, and it was received with shock at first, then returned with as much vigour.

It was a fight, unlike any other times before. Before they had been learning each other, questioning, experimenting and enjoying. This was the meeting of two bodies that knew each other very well by now, and communicate without words their need.

Viktor was usually gentle, but gentleness was not their way that night. He held Yuuri’s hips hard as the other man forced himself closer, bodies colliding. Viktor caught him in his lap, and managed to lever them both towards the bed, lips locked and Yuuri’s hands in his hair.

When Yuuri’s grip became painful, Viktor bit at his lip in retaliation, but it wasn’t anger, it was need. The need to rage against the day, the need to be nearer each, be as aware of the other as was possible.  So pain was coupled with the sensation of desire, suckling coupled with biting and scratches with the pulling of skin.

Tonight Viktor was willing to play the martyr, but disguised it well.

Yuuri’s hips urged upward for friction, but complained when Viktor balanced just out of reach. There was a satiny slither of fabric as Yuuri’s gown was removed and abandoned, and for once Viktor left his pants on as he lowered himself between Yuuri’s legs and gave Yuuri no warning before swallowing him whole. The act made Yuuri cry out, and Viktor was merciless with his tongue and the motion.

“Viktor.” Yuuri growled. “Not yet.”

Viktor let Yuuri’s erection drop from his mouth and licked his lips while Yuuri watched, feeling feral.

Yuri rolled away for a moment and came back with the collar that lived in his drawer. The chain clicked as he fastened it onto Viktor’s neck and the Russian waited only he heard the snap of the clip before launching himself at Yuuri’s mouth again.

The presence of the collar changed the tone subtly, like the changing colours of sunset. What had begun with a fight, with Yuuri all venom and Viktor all hunger, became slower and intimate, and they kissed until their lips were sore. Viktor felt the tug of the chain making him pause and he lingered over Yuuri’s mouth, a breath apart.

“I want…” Yuuri panted against him, and Viktor felt him roll his hips forward, letting their erections rub together and Viktor closed his eyes to savour the feeling.

“What?” Viktor whispered. “What do you want?”

“I want you…inside me.”

Viktor blinked in surprise, pulling apart as far as the chain would allow, but even though Yuuri below him looked wrecked with desire, there was still that steel determination in his eyes.

Viktor slid one of arms around Yuuri’s waist, and pulled him up, their bodies sliding and perfect against each other as Yuuri drew him close using his thighs.

“This is where you belong.” Yuuri whispered to him.

Viktor pushed the bulge of his cock between Yuuri’s cheeks, just too feel the frustrating friction of cloth. His lover answered by pulling them closer, the chain still pulled tight, a hard unyielding rope between their chests.

There was a shuffling of movement at Viktor removed his pants and resettled as they were. He let Yuuri bite into his neck and slid his hand between the cleft of Yuuri’s ass, finding the small pucker and touching gently.

“Don’t ask me if I’m sure.” Yuuri said harshly into his ear. “I know what I want.”

Viktor nodded in silence, but kissed Yuuri’s neck anyway, sliding his tongue across the straining muscles. He used the pre-cum from his cock to wet the entrance but didn’t go further than that.

“It will hurt if you don’t relax.” He said softly.

“I don’t care.” Yuuri retorted.

“Please, my love, relax.” Viktor said, holding his arm strong around Yuuri’s waist but aiming to give Yuuri pleasure with the other. In between kisses and nibbles, he felt Yuuri’s hand unclench from his hair and the chain slack. The next time Yuuri’s mouth found his, it was welcoming and Viktor pushed the first finger inwards as their tongues found each again.

Yuuri tightened briefly, then actively relaxed himself, allowing Viktor further access. When he brushed along the small bulb inside, Yuuri clenched again, but it was different this time, as was clear by the way he pushed himself down on Viktor’s hand.

Viktor got to three fingers before Yuuri grew impatient. “Enough.” He gasped out.

Viktor wanted to argue, but he knew better. The way Yuuri’s thrusting down against him was pushing his own limits too. Rubbing the tip against Yuuri’s entrance to add extra lubricant, he teased until on Yuuri’s next impatient thrust he pushed upwards in sync.

Yuuri’s gasped and dug his fingernails into Viktor’s shoulders. Viktor waited, murmuring against Yuuri’s neck unheard things. Sex between them had been fun before, but this was the first time Yuuri had wanted to bottom. He turned towards him to see the furrowing of his brow, the heavy hot panting from his mouth.

“Are you ok?” Viktor asked gently.

Yuuri only nodded and Viktor let himself slide in further, shuddering, using a lot of self-control to keep the motion slow. When he bottomed out, he grunted, because the buried feeling of Yuuri wrapped completely around him was the sweetest kind of ache. It radiated out from his groin into his abdomen, then his chest and he tucked his face into Yuuri’s neck to hide his expression.

Oh the sweet anguish of being in love.

The rhythm they started began together, both of them beginning slow, growing accustomed to the sensation and savouring it.

‘This is where you belong.” Yuuri told him again, and Viktor had to look away then. It was Yuuri clutching his shoulders, rolling his hips in just that way, his legs so tight around his waist it almost hurt. It was their mingled scent and being deep inside Yuuri again and again and again.

“Moya lyubov', moye serdtse.” Viktor shuddered as he came inside his lover.

Yuuri followed soon after, the contact and friction sending them both over the edge.

 

“Moye serdtse.” He said again, as Yuuri trembled and clenched around him.

 

“Anata wa watashi no naka ni koko ni imasu.” Yuuri whispered and was felt in a hot circle on Viktor’s shoulder.

 

-*-

Before the sun rose, Viktor slid out of the bed, leaving the still form of Yuuri alone.

 

When Viktor climbed into the blue fiat, frost still thick and crystalline on the grass, he saw Pichit lingering at the doorway to the garage. They said nothing, shared nothing, and Pichit watched him leave without any indication he was watching him at all.

 

-*-

Yuuri was reading through the docket Christophe had given him. Again, based on the info Christophe had given him, he was sure that Yaakov was whole dup in a transport freighter near the Hakone fish markets, even though Pichit had said there was nothing there.  He wouldn’t usually doubt Pichit, but it felt like he needed to make sure for himself; enough was enough.

They were waiting for Yuuko, Toshiro, Altin, Yuri and Viktor to join them, while his shadow took his customary perch on the windowsill that caught the most sun. Unusually, wasn’t playing with his knives, but looking out the window.

“We are going to the Hakone shipyards again.” Yuuri said to him as he closed one document and opened another.

Pichit turned to him whiplash quick. “Why? Do you not trust me?”

“It’s not a question of trust. I want to see for myself. Maybe you missed something.”

“I don’t miss things.” Pichit replied.

“Yaakov has been hidden for too long and I’ve had enough. You’re not infallible.”

Pichit seethed silently while the other arrived close on each other’s heels. When they were all seated, Yuuri frowned.

“Where is Viktor?”

Yuuko looked surprised and shrugged. “I haven’t seen him.”

The others said the same and Yuuri swallowed his annoyance. “Pichit, fetch him. Use force If you like.”

But Pichit didn’t move.

Yuuri turned to him. “Did you not hear me?” he said with quiet menace unimpressed with Pichit little tantrum.

Pichit glared at the floor. “I heard your boss.”

From the corner of his eye, Yuuri noticed Yuri lean forward. “Crazy boy is hiding something.”

Yuuri watched as Pichit flashed him a deathly glare then went back to staring at the floor.

“Pichit.”

Pichit still didn’t answer.

“Pichit, while you of all people have had the indulgence of my patience before, today I have none to spare. Speak. Now.”

Pichit instantly went from churlish to kneeling in front Yuuri, head bowed.

“I’m sorry, boss. I had to.”

Yuuri went cold. The fairy stood up with a snarl. “Had to what, crazy boy?”

Pichit was holding something in his closed hand and he held it up for Yuuri to see. The fingers uncurled and Yuuri saw two gold bands, with the emblem of a snake, one small and one much larger.

“He gave these to me before he left.” Pichit murmured.

Yuuri took them, not understanding. Then he glanced at Yuuko’s hand, where the still healing stump was in a tight bandage. So many of his men were in bandages now…

He turned a flinty gaze back to Pichit. “Do these belong to Yuuko and Toshiro?”

Pichit nodded silently and Yuuri lost his temper. He grabbed at the man head and forced him to meet his eyes. “Speak, dog.”

Pichit had tears in the corners of his eyes. “I had to. I’m sorry. He was killing all of us. He would have killed you!”

Yuuri was still trying to make sense of his words when Fairy came up and kicked at the man, who took it and cowered where he landed.

“What did you do? Did you tell him to go?” Yuri shouted.

“How were you there last night Pichit?” Yuuko chimed in, suspicion in her voice.

Yuuri recalled Pichit telling him a story and believing it because it was Pichit who was loyal, who would never lie to him, and because he had been ready to raze all of Russia in that moment.

 

He stared at the man curled up and trembling on the floor, appealing to him with his eyes for understanding. The pieces of his information were rearranging his mind as he stared at the man before him, who was so terrifying to others but merely a beaten, cowing subjugate in his eyes.

How had they known where to find his mother? And to wait until Viktor was there before striking?

Would Viktor have invited Pichit there knowing Yuuri was going to join him later?

Why, of all his men, had Babicheva left Pichit alive, when he was right under her knife? The evidence of which was under the bandage around Pichit’s throat?

 

“What have you done?” Yuuri whispered and Pichit began to weep.

 

“It was for you! Yaakov was going to kill you for being in his way! He just wants the Russian, so I gave him over. It was for you!”

Yuuri could see the absolute honesty in Pichit’s expression. In his mind, twisted beyond rationality by his father, it made sense. Pichit had fulfilled his mandate; the man he loved was now safe.

 

“Please.” Pichit whimpered, “You chose him over me but he was the blade to strike you down, when I have only ever kept you safe. It was for you…”

Yuuri stood suddenly and Pichit flinched.

“You know where Yaakov is don’t you?”

Pichit cried louder but nodded.

“Then you are going to get into a car, and you will take us there. And then, I will deal with you.” He stepped closer, until the toe of his shoe brushed against Pichit running nose. “I will ask you questions and you will answer them, you traitorous disappointment, and if you attempt to speak to me outside of that, I will cut out your tongue and feed it to Makkanin.”

 

-*-

 

Yuuri fumed internally, as Pichit spoke. As it turned out, he was far too incensed to ask questions without abusing Pichit, even though the man was reduced to a mere trembling mess by this point, so he gave the job over to Altin and Yuuko, who sat in the back seat while he sped over the road.

Yaakov was in the freighter, as Yuuri had deduced, and Pichit had been in contact with him for just over two weeks. Using pichit’s jealousy against him, he had managed to coax out enough information to form a plan. And had encouraged Pichit to drive home and twist the knife of guilt already in Viktor’s side until he had decided to leave. As soon as he had seen the tail lights of Viktor’s car three hours earlier, he had sent a brief message to the number Yaakov had given him, telling him Viktor was gone and now fair game.

 

“You insidious little fuck.” Yuuko cursed when she heard this. “Viktor was kind to you! Do you not use the knives he gifted you instead of your own now?”

Yuuri clutched at the steering wheel so he wouldn’t lean over, open Pichit door and launch him from the car.

“I-“Pichit began.

“I told you not to speak.” Yuuri snapped and Pichit bowed his head in submission.

The freighter was 20 minutes’ drive, but Yuuri made it in ten, with the car holding Yuri and Toshiro close behind.

They skidded to a halt at the enormous freighter tucked at the end of the parking lot, but it stood large and unconquerable in the water. Yuuri whipped his phone out then.

“O’Donnell.” He snapped into the receiver. “Yes, have you been holding up your end? Good, I have another favour. I need men, sent now, to the Hakone docks. As many guns as you have on hand, and a way to get into a freighter.” Pause. “O’ Donnel, I did not say in three hours, I said now. And in case I am still being misunderstood, please consider that I know exactly where you keep your wife and children, as well as your two mistresses in Beijing and Brazil. Do as I ask.”

He flipped the phone closed still glaring at the discoloured, stained metal face of the freighter, then turned to Pichit.

“Give me your phone.” He demanded and Pichit found it and tossed it with no objection.

Dialling the first number, he waited until the line picked up.

“This is Katsuki Yuuri. Give the phone to Yaakov now.”

There was a fumbling sound on the other end, and then he heard Yaakov’s self-satisfied runt in his ear.

“Yes? I am somewhat busy at the moment.” He chuckled. “I have an old friend visiting.”

 

“You have something of mine.”

 Yuuri answered.

“Is it yours if I had it first? He left of his own free will, came to me without as much as a gun. You made him soft. I’ll make him softer.”

 

Yuuri forced himself to calm down. “Before I blow a hole in the hull of your ship, you need to return him. Now.”

Yaakov gave a surprised gasp. “The ship? Well, yes, that is where I’ve been for the last few weeks. But I don’t shit where I eat you know. But we are close by.”

Yuuri spun around on Pichit, grabbing his shirt and yanking him close. “Where are they now? He is not on the ship, so where?”

Pichit whimpered but Yuuri shook him. “Tell me before I shoot you.”

Pichit nodded silently and Yuuri threw him aside, where he stumbled but began walking away from the docks to the storehouses.

“Faster.” Yuuko said, pushing at the cowed man’s back.

Eventually they came to a smaller, shabbier storehouse, with a low roof. It seemed to be out of use, judging from the rusted rivets and corrugated iron roofing. He took the led once more and found what he was looking for quickly in the small building.

 

It was a familiar plateau so Yuuri wasn’t discouraged. Yaakov stood shaking out his fist and grinning at his arrival, the light shining of his bald head, while three other figures lounged just out of immediate perimeter, looking bored.  One was a woman with red hair, the other a tallish man with unusually long eyelashes, and the last was seated on the floor, with close cropped blonde hair.

The red head waved at them cheerfully. “Hello Pichit. Nice to see you again.” She turned to Yaakov and said loudly. “He was very useful, want he, boss?”

Yaakov nodded at Yuuri. “He was.”

Pichit collapsed to the floor and whined.

“Good, you can keep him then. After you return what’s mine.”

Yuuri had been avoiding looking at the bowed figure in the chair next to Yaakov but he had to look now. Viktor’s hair was already streaked with blood, crusting under the surface. He couldn’t see his face but he saw the way Viktor tried weakly to spit blood from his mouth. The worst however, was the fact that he wasn’t even tied down. No, Viktor was sitting in that chair, making himself immobile, making himself weak.

 Yaakov tutted. “We’ve been over this. He came on his own. And we have unfinished business.” He grabbed victor’s lank hair and jerked his face up. “Don’t we, Vitya?”

Viktor met Yuuri’s eyes for a moment before looking away.

“Please leave.” He managed to couch out. Yuuri ignored him.

“There are men on their way here as we speak, with many guns and bullets. You are in my house, old man, and you are spilling blood on my soil. It’s time for you to stop behaving with such conceit.”

 

Yaakov shrugged. “I just want to finish up here, then I’ll be gone.”

“No.” Yuuri replied emphatically. “If you touch him one more time, you will not leave here alive.”

Yaakov laughed like Yuuri had said a joke. “No, you think I’m alone here. But they,” he gestured to his entourage. “They will deal with your men, and then some.”

“You are a fool.” Yuuri heard Toshiro speak from behind him.

Yaakov shook his head. “Fine fine, maybe I’ve been foolish.” He turned with open arms to Yuuri. “Come let us speak.”

“There is no more talking.’ Yuuri sneered. “You are going to die today.”

Yaakov was stepping closer, his hands in his pockets and smiling. “Perhaps we can make a deal. An arrangement. Your family cut ties with the Bratva a generation ago yes? Perhaps we can mend the bridge.”

Yuuri stopped himself from saying that the thought of connections with Yaakov made him feel ill and flicked an indicative hand behind him.

 

As Yuuko and Toshiro launched forward, with Yuri beside them, he reached into his jacket for his own gun.

Then there was a blur of movement, and Yuuri just ducked out of the way of a wide cleaver swung at his face.

“Bringing knives to a gun fight.” He muttered.  He let off a shot which Yaakov managed to dodge.

The next moments Yuuri recalled in slow motion. The movement of Yaakov’s hand reaching for a hand gun under his coat, Yuuri swinging his own arm around to meet it, a blur of a body in his line of vision.

 

A shot.

 

Pichit body landing with an inelegant thump at his feet.

 

Yaakov grabbing his arm shooting him in the foot in his moment of distraction.

 

And black.

    

 


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Art for this work:  
> http://micaelavdb.tumblr.com/image/157096059208

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here it is guys, the last one.  
> I hope all of you know that it was as gripping/hectic/tense/stressful for me to write as it was for you to read.
> 
> Thank you for all of your encouraging comments, they really helped keep me writing.  
> I may or may not, in the future, write some Otayuri, but don't quote me.
> 
> Now I am off to start another AU because apparently I'm a glutton for sleep deprivation. Also, publishing my first book, yay me!  
> I love you all, this was fun.

Viktor’s sight was damaged, but he saw enough to know that Yaakov had Yuuri.

After shooting him in the foot, one of his men had come up behind Yuuri and hit hard enough on the head to knock him out cold, something he could never have done without the combined distractions of a bullet wound and the new deflating body of Pichit on the floor in front of him.

As he watched, more figures started coming out of the shadows, Yaakov’s men who had been hidden. It had been a set up.

Viktor pushed himself up off the chair and fell, hard. His knees cried out but he tried again and managed to keep himself upright. There was still a fight happening, Toshiro was battling the blonde one and Yuuko and Yuri were paired with Babicheva, who had stopped laughing now that she had two opponents.

His blurring eyes sought for a weapon, any weapon, while at the same time, eyeing the door that Yaakov had disappeared through with the unconscious Yuuri and taller bodyguard. Eventually, he went and kneeled down/feel beside Pichit, who was still alive enough to see him.

“I didn’t…” he wheezed at Viktor searched through his inside jacket for knives her knew were there. Viktor had no time to spare for him then, and as soon as he found the knives, he threw two in succession, burying them in the blonde man’s back and giving Toshiro enough of a gap to snap his neck. While that happened, Viktor collected another four knives and moved closer to the fighting trio, swaying and looking or the right moment to push a blade through and not hit his colleagues.

The red head was moving too quickly for his delayed responses, but he saw his opening when she elbowed Yuri in the face hard enough to send him reeling. He was aiming for her lower back when the first shots began to ring out. Then the hollow shell of a building was echoing with bullets shots.

It was too much and Viktor dashed for cover, along with the others. Yuri joined him behind a concrete pillar, as a bullet hit the side and sprayed cement dust over their heads.

“Viktor, can you even walk?” Yuri demanded as they scrunched themselves together in the meagre shelter.

“He hadn’t gotten round to breaking my legs.” Viktor replied. Adrenaline was waking him up now. “What’s happening?”

“Yuuri called someone before we got here, looks like they arrived.”

“Yaakov took Yuuri.” Viktor said grunting, shouting to be heard over the bullets. “This was so stupid, how could he just walk in here without waiting for them?”

Yuri shrugged. “You didn’t see him. After Pichit came clean, wild horses couldn’t have stopped him.”

“Shit.” Viktor hissed and peeked around to where pichit’s body was laying bleeding on the floor still. It wasn’t too far away, so he nudged Yuri. “Help me pull him in.”

Yuri was incredulous. “You’re kidding. Let him die, he did the same for you.”

Viktor nudged him harder. “Just do it.”

Yuri made a disgusted noise but complied. They dashed out and in the process saw that Yuuko had found her own hiding place, and he couldn’t see Toshiro so hopefully that was a good sign. He and Yuri each grabbed a foot and pulled hard, swinging Pichit’s limp from back behind the pillar with them.

He was still alive, but his eyes were glazing.

“Where did Yaakov take Yuuri?” Viktor demanded loudly, seeing him fading.

Pichit coughed, and tried to swallow, but the gash in his stomach was still bleeding freely and Viktor saw that he had been shot from behind too. A thin red trail dribbled from his mouth.

“I don’t know.” Pichit whispered. “This wasn’t…the plan…”

Viktor knew the plan had been to let him die but he pushed the thought away. “Pichit. Come on, you can survive this. Yuuri will want you up and running tomorrow.”

Tears mingled with blood on Pichit’s face.

“No. He will not.”

The light left his eyes, and he sighed out a last painful breath. Viktor clenched his eyes shut, and leaned back next to Yuri, forcing himself to concentrate.

“He won’t have gotten far. I saw him leave. You coming long?”

Yuri rolled his eyes but nodded. After a pause in the shooting, Viktor pushed himself to his feet, crossing the exposed gap between him and the door he’d last seen Yaakov, Yuri in tow.

Outside, the sounds of the gun fight inside were tinny. Viktor turned away from it, looking for something anything, when Yuri turned him around and pointed. “His ship is there.”

They ran, although Yuri had to slow his pace slightly for Viktor, but when Viktor noticed he pushed himself to go faster. He had to be better, he had to be alert and awake and present.

“Where is your boyfriend?” Viktor huffed.

Yuri managed to spare him a glare. “Otabek stayed in the car.”

Viktor almost rolled his eyes. Of course he had. They were almost at the ship then, and he saw the boarding ramp still down. “Call him and tell him what’s happening. Maybe he can be useful.”

Yuri grabbed Viktor before he went up the ramp. “I will, but imp following you in there.”

Viktor shook off the hand. “Then follow, but I’m not waiting.”

He heard Yuri curse behind him, following at a slower pace with a phone to his ear.

Viktor wasn’t unfamiliar with boats or ships, and he knew the inside of a large freighter like this could be a maze, so he had to think strategically. The ramp had been down, so Yaakov hadn’t intended on kidnapping Yuuri but something more permanent…he also clearly hadn’t thought he would be followed.

Well, he had a habit of under estimating Viktor.

Viktor navigated his way in to the dimly lit ship, mentally trying to recall how these things were built. Would Yaakov take him to the control centre? No, he didn’t like cramped spaces so he would aim for somewhere wider…which meant he would be aiming for the ships main floor. And that made things a little simpler.

Or a lot. He found the loading floor easily, and it was currently empty of cargo, and as he ducked silently behind a power box, and watched as Yaakov spoke with the taller man he had seen earlier over the still unconscious body of Yuuri. Viktor rubbed the last of the crusted blood from his eye, barely noticing the strong as he touched still open wounds. Yaakov liked his knuckle dusters.

“I don’t need you to tell me what you think is ‘stupid.’ Georgi.” Yaakov was saying in a churlish tone. “I don’t care about your opinion at all.”

“You should. Especially because this was a particularly dumb move, though I give you ten points for originality.” Georgi replied “this wasn’t in the plan.”

“Fuck the plan.” Yaakov snapped, nudging Yuuri with the toe of his boot. “Wake up, snake.”

Yuuri was still, and Georgi crouched down over him and slapped him open handed, the sound oddly muted by the huge space. This time, Viktor saw Yuuri blink, but his eyes weren’t directed to his hiding place and didn’t see him. Then he sat up slowly, touching his head with one arm and bringing himself forward to lean over his knees.

He groaned slightly then said. “This was stupid of you Yaakov.”

Viktor surprised a grimace at Yuuri’s obvious lack of fear in the situation, while at the same time feeling immensely attracted.

“That’s what I said.” Georgi pointed out. Yaakov kicked at Yuuri’s leg but Yuuri saw the movement and dodged it, though he remained sitting. In fact, he continued looking mildly annoyed.

“What is your plan here, old man? Kill me? Kidnap me? Break my legs?”

“Excuse? That’s my job.” Georgi said.

“There was no plan.” Yaakov said casually. “But it seemed like I would have missed the opportunity to right a significant wrong, if I simply let you leave. Vitya was an important lesson to learn, but the main purpose was to teach _you_ , Katsuki Yuuri, that Yaakov always gets what he wants.”

Yuuri raised an eyebrow all disinterested attention. “And what is that?”

“revenge.” Yaakov replied. “Your father killed mine, little snake. And now we come full circle. It was quiet foolish of you to come alone with so little forethought. When you walked up to me, I saw my chance.”

“So you are the true prize. You should be embarrassed at yourself. It was so easy to lure you here, once I found out you had taken Vitya to your bed.”

This time Yuuri’s mask of boredom solidified into aggression.

“Oh yes, I know. It was a huge leap of imagination. I knew Vitya was twisted, but I didn’t know about you. But when you refused to give him back to me, when you sacrificed your own people for him…well, it made sense. Its sim ply another reason for me to kill you, disgusting thing.”

Viktor was about to jump out then when he felt a brush at his back. Whirling around, he saw his blonde protégée, creeping silently behind him and holding up a crowbar and a pair of industrial size chain clippers.

“No gun?” he mimed.

Yuri rolled his eyes and shook his head.

After considering, he took the crowbar, and turned back. Yaakov had crouched down, while Georgi tried to remove something from between his teeth with his pinkie.

“So I won’t kill you, yet. I will take you back to Russia though, where Vitya will come scampering after you like a dog, and while I give you both over to Mila and Georgi for an eternally painful death, I will take your organisation apart piece by piece until there is nothing left and then ill deliver your head to your mother.”

Yaakov stood and stretched. “Ah, revenge is very sweet!”

Yuuri took that moment to kick his leg out in an arch to try and knock Georgi over. He reacted like it was no surprise, jumping lithely up and away. Viktor saw Yuuri incorporate a capoeira move where he twisted his body around and lipped himself back and away from them.

It seemed like a good time to get involved.

Babicheva had already started towards Yuuri when Yaakov noticed them, wide eyed and angry.

“No!” he shouted to Georgi.

“Yes,” Viktor replied, making a wide arch at his head, enjoying the satisfying feeling of the metal connecting with his skull. Yaakov went over without a problem. He turned to where Babicheva was now fending off both the other two. Viktor advanced on them, eager to finish him off. However, the odds were obvious to anyone and Georgi could see it too. He shoved Yuri away and turned tail, running until he came to the railing. With a quick two fingered salute over his shoulder, he dove over and was gone into the water. Viktor arrived next to the other two and watched him as he swam.

“If only we had a gun.” Yuri sighed.

Viktor nudged him. “He’s going to shore. Go and make sure he has a welcome party when he gets there.”

Yuri hefted the chain clippers onto his shoulder and went back the way they had come. Viktor turned to Yuuri, who had a trickle of blood coming down from under his hairline.

“Kono yarou.” Yuuri told him acidly.

Viktor shrugged. “You’re welcome for saving your life. That’s two life debts you owe me.”

“Maybe I’ll buy you a new suit instead. After I hit you in the head for being a mountainous fool.”

Viktor looked away and frowned. “It was the only choice. You would have been next. He wouldn’t have stopped, and I think the fact that he just tried to kidnap you, proves my point.”

Yuuri came right up to him, hair awry and fury in his face. “You never should have decided to leave. I _told_ you. We would have dealt with him. I hate repeating myself.” gripping the back of Viktor’s neck he pulled him downwards. “Do _not_ make me come after you again. If you’re going to die, it will be by my hand alone. And since you’re going to live, it will be by my side. Understood?”

Viktor fell into the electricity once more, the locking of eyes that had caught him from day one.

“I will die, before I let go of you. Understood?” Yuuri said quietly.

Viktor nodded then, bowing his head slightly. “Yes.”

“Good.” Yuuri said curtly and shoving him away. “Get away from me, because your face makes me want to hit something.”

Viktor didn’t quite smother a smile, but they heard a groaning from behind them. Yaakov was waking up. In unspoken agreement, Viktor handed Yuuri the crowbar and they both approached the man. Blinking away stars, his gaze found them and he growled.

“I suppose you think you’ve won.”

Yuuri leaned on the crowbar like a walking stick. “Yes. Because I have. You played your hand, and you lost, as misguided as it was.” He kicked the end of the bar up so it swung neatly into his hand then changed his grip thoughtfully so he was holding it like a bat. “I am not my father. He had a much looser moral code than I do.”

“How can you talk about morals when you’re fucking-“

“Stop.” Yuuri said, punctuating the word with a tap o his impromptu cane. “As I was saying, I am not my father. But I am the snake, and I am Katsuki. And we never leave prey uneaten.”

Putting his full weight into it, the bar swung high and around and came crashing down on Yaakov left kneecap with a delightfully satisfying crunch.

“Shut him up.” Yuuri said to Viktor when Yaakov wouldn’t stop screaming. Viktor shucked his coat and stuffed a bundled up section of it into Yaakov’s wailing mouth, as he clutched his crippled leg.

“In about two days’ time, your bank accounts will be empty. All of them. So unless you have a secret stash somewhere that I didn’t find, all your riches will be like so much dust. Any ties you had to Japan are thoroughly cut and burned, so please, don’t try again. If you manage to get back to Russia without dying of sepsis, you will find that I have managed to infiltrate and dispose of several of your weapons caches and have taken over your drug mills. Your prostitution rings are a memory only. Do you understand me? We could have coexisted quite easily, but you stood in the nest of vipers and now the venom has spread.”

Yaakov was no longer screaming, but Viktor could see that the information was likely only going to sink in later, when Yaakov could check the facts.

“Unlike my lover, “ Yuuri said indicating Viktor, “I knew I could dissolve you, given enough time. You Russians, you are impatient. Never wait to be invited.” He glanced side long at Viktor. “It’s very rude.”

Viktor’s admiration was bordering on worship at this point. Yuuri leaned forward slightly.

“Imp not going to kill you. I’m going to let you go, and whatever men you still have alive, because I want you to live with your mistake.”

He was about to throw the crowbar down when he stopped and glanced at Viktor. Then he held out the metal bar with a questioning look.

Viktor bowed in thanks and took the bar, while Yaakov began his muffled cried once more.

Yaakov didn’t need _two_ knees.

 

-*-

Yuuri made good on his promise, and the remains of Yaakov’s Japanese contingent were escorted back onto the freighter, along with Georgi, who had met Yuri as he surfaced from the water. However, Georgi was a survivor and they had both managed to inflict the same amount of damage on each other before Viktor intervened.  He was very definitely unhappy about being shepherded back to Yaakov, and would likely have to play his nursemaid for the duration of their return. However long that would be. Yuuri had deftly intercepted any private planes that may have been at this Russian mafia boss’s disposal already.

 While Viktor sat in the sick room, and listened to Yuuko as she was getting a bullet or three removed from her thigh, she told him about the way Yaakov had manipulate Pichit, who had in turn manipulated Viktor. Viktor saw it in hindsight with perfect clarity, and knew that if he hadn’t been letting his guilt doing so much of his emotional stirring, he would have seen it. He would have questioned more.

Yuuri’s slow yet decisive actions regarding Yaakov were thorough, and he knew that Yuuri would likely make good on the promise of a beating later. But he couldn’t rub away the hot little ball in his chest that radiated warmth. Because Yuuri had come for him. He had thrown caution to the wind for him, and he hadn’t cared who say or who knew.

He had come for him. He felt both shame faced and jubilant.

“So, you and the boss?” Yuuko asked as she lay on her chest and the doctor dug a third slug out of her ass.

Viktor hoped off the bed he’d been sitting on. “I need to shower.”

“I’ll find out.”

“Find out what?” Viktor said as he exited the room.

-*-

There was a small funeral for Pichit, as he was lowered into the ground in the garden behind Yuuri’s rooms. It was not attended by anyone other than Yuuri himself, who could only acknowledge his last actions as symptoms of his madness, a madness he had a part in creating. He couldn’t hate him, he couldn’t love him, but he could understand him.

-*-

“Handcuffs?” Viktor said, amused.

Yuuri dangled them from a finger, thoughtful. “It seemed necessary. Even if you don’t wear them always, would it be enough to convince you not to go running off again?”

Viktor shook his head, letting his hair swing in front of his face. Although the idea of wearing handcuffs in Yuuri’s office was somewhat…entertaining. “You don’t need those.”

“Don’t I?” Yuuri raised an eyebrow.

Viktor met his gaze openly. “You know why I did it. Did you do any less, for me?”

Yuuri’s eyes became hard. “You shouldn’t assume things.”

Viktor leaned and elbow on the arms rest and grinned a little. “Assume what? That our emotions make us fallible? That we were both idiotic because of them?”

Yuuri dropped the cuffs with a clatter on his desk, frowning at them and stubbornly silent.

“In any case,” Viktor went on, getting up and walking around the table. “You don’t need the cuffs. But if you want to use them, I’ll happily oblige.”

Viktor had unbuttoned his left sleeve and rolled it up. Holding his arm out for Yuuri to see, he displayed the green and gold serpent about to devour a crescent moon, still proud on the soft skin of his under arm.

“Just in case someone wonders about my branding.” Viktor finished off.

Yuuri stared at the tattoo for a long time, then ran a fingertip over the raised flesh.

“Hmmm.” He replied. “I suppose it will do.”

Ownership was a mask between them. Because Viktor he wasn’t owned, not like the way Yaakov had insisted on having sole rights to Viktor and everything he was, even after he had tossed him aside. Katsuki Yuuri didn’t own any of his men or women. But what he did own was their love their loyalty, their hearts.

What kept Viktor chafing railing against that idea was that Yuuri has chased him, to reclaim the piece of Yuuri that Viktor owned.

Viktor picked up the cuffs again and studied them. “You know, I know how to get out of these fairly easily. You should get the leather bound ones. With straps.”

Yuuri’s expression was laconic, but his eyes were licking with flames.

“Maybe a blind fold?”

 

-*-

It was a Sunday, but there was no rest for the wicked and they were headed out to meet with a new informant.

Yuri was leaning against the garden wall, and could see Viktor can’t his head slightly as Katsuki Yuuri muttered something around a cigar, then nodded before calling one of the other Katsuki minions closer for instruction. He watched them do this a lot; Yuuri passing his instructions along through the tall, silver haired man, and Viktor, his once mentor executing them. Sometimes, all they did was share a look before Viktor went off to do his bidding and Yuuri sat back to observe.

He sucked hard on the cigarette in his mouth, making a finger nail length of ash.

“Why does it bother you?” Otabek asked, stepped up to stand next to him, and seeing the same plateau.

“Who says it does?”

“Three boxes of cigarette and my ashtray full of butts.” Otabek replied. "Which stinks, by the way."

Yuri threw the stub down and squashed it.

“He isn’t something to be owned.”

Otabek was silent as he watched with Yuri. Again, the serpent let a plume of smoke drift out of his mouth lazily, and Viktor touch the sleeve of his left arm briefly, before smiling and climbing into the blue fiat which was far too small for him.

“You would think that, as Katsuki Yuuri’s new right hand man, he would buy him a better car.” Yuri complained on his friends behalf.

“I think he likes the car.” Otabek disagreed. “It matches his eyes.”

Yuri turned his glower on the dark skinned man next to him, and Otabek almost smiled. Instead he leaned down so he could speak in lower tone.

“You do know they’re lovers, don’t you?”

Yuri's mouth fell open.

“What?!”

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that tied everything up nicely. If it didn't, ask me and ill answer.
> 
>  
> 
> *skips off over a cliff*


	23. Prompts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first one is a moment between Viktor and Yuri, when Yuri is now working for Katsuki on a commission basis. 
> 
> The second is the aftermath, back in Russia, just so we can properly stamp on Yaakov's head.
> 
> These prompts are dedicated to their prompt masters/mistresses.
> 
>  
> 
> More soon!

****

For Wnhy48:

 

“Where did you learn that particular method?” Viktor asked.

“I read it in a book.” Yuri replied.

Viktor stopped scrubbing at his finger nails for a moment to look at his once pupil. “A book about torture?”

Yuri shrugged. “It’s called ‘ _On discipline and punishment_.’ Some medieval shit, very gruesome. Some of it is completely ridiculous, but they liked a show.”

Viktor ‘huh’ed’ under his breath and returned to the sink, where they stood side by side, working under their fingernails and up their arms and making the foam in the basin pink.

“Well, it was definitely a show.” Viktor acknowledged, glancing at the bloody body behind them. “I didn’t know you read.”

Yuri tried to push his hair away from his face using his shoulder and failing. Instead, he ended up trying to blow his hair away from his face.

“I’m not a moron.” Yuri retorted, equally irritated with him and his hair.

Viktor shook his head fondly. “I didn’t say you were, I just don’t recall you ever picking up more than your phone before.”

Yuri didn’t reply; he was now trying to push his hair away with his elbows. Viktor watched in amused silence as he splashed his hands into the water to remove the suds, then shook his hands hard to get the excess water off, before grabbing it and undoing and retying it all into a messy bun. It reached well past his shoulders, and was well looked after, thick and silky.

Viktor wiped a few droplets off his face with his own rolled up sleeve, then let the water out. While he calmly dried his hands on a black towel, he went on.

“You could just cut it. You keep getting red streaks, because you’re so forgetful.”

Yuri shot him an incredulous look. “You must be joking. You know how long this took to grow?”

Viktor eyed him. “Otabek likes something to hold does he?”

The blush that spread across Yuri’s cheeks then was worth the comment, even as he turned towards him in smothered rage. Viktor backed away, hand raise in surrender but he couldn’t help laughing.

“Is that a no? I mean, his hair is so short so I assumed.” Viktor needled, and dodged jab by putting a chair between him and the other man. Yuri managed to control himself and visibly relaxed, though his blush remained.

“Shut up.”

Viktor looked at his young friend, and was suddenly inexpressibly glad that they could be friends again.

“My apologies, Kitten. I mean well.” He said.

They walked out of the interrogation room together, and as Viktor knew Yuri would be craving a cigarette by now, they headed outside, and found it was almost dawn.

“So,” Yuri said when he had lit up and taking a large lungful. “You, uh, and…Katsuki…”

Yuri being awkward was as delightful as seeing him blush. Viktor leaned closer to him to bump shoulders and waggled his eyebrows lewdly.

“I call him Yuuri.” Viktor answered.

Yuri snorted disparagingly and frowned over his cigarette. The sky was becoming slowly lighter, and the chill of winter was still in the night air, making the hair on their arms stand up. They would head inside soon, if only to clean up the mess in the cell.

“Do you…like him?” Yuri asked hesitantly and Viktor was startled by tone more than the question.

He decided to be honest.

“I am in love with him.” Viktor said frankly.

Yuri didn’t react more than dragging on the stick again. “And him? Does he love you?”

Viktor sighed inwardly. How could he explain it, to someone on the outside of it? To anyone who wasn’t them?

“ _I_ think so.” Viktor replied. “But it doesn’t matter.”

Yuri looked at him sidelong. “How can it not matter? He holds your life in his hands, he pulls the chain that tethers you to him?”

Viktor repressed a smile, because that wasn’t what Yuri meant. He spoke of the he only kind of boss/employee relationship he knew, which was what Yaakov had taught him. That his life mattered less, and always would.

“It doesn’t matter because love counts for nothing if   only based on reciprocity. You love, or you do not love. It’s not dependent of whether that person returns the feeling.” Viktor said as the first unbearably bright shimmer of the sun broke over the horizon. “I love him and it is enough for me. Everything else is a bonus.”

“He still pays your salary though.” Yuri quipped spitefully.

Viktor shrugged. He hadn’t bothered looking at his account in ages; Yuuri provided everything he needed. Including custom made suits.

“So…you think he loves you back.” Yuri went on after a pause. “And you would love him even if he didn’t?”

Viktor couldn’t help but feel that perhaps they were speaking of something else entirely. He nudged the blonde man’s shoulder again.

“What can I say, imp attracted to powerful men. The waist coats don’t hurt.” He said with a grin, trying to convey that his feelings for Yuuri didn’t weigh on him in any way. He accepted them wholeheartedly, even though he knew that loving someone like Katsuki Yuuri was something like embracing a venomous snake. He knew Yuuri would never intentionally hurt him.

But they were shadow people, and there were no guarantees.

“Things like ‘love’ mean something different for us.” Viktor added more sombrely.

Yuri had finished his cigarette by then and stomped it to death but didn’t move to leave. Viktor waited, sensing that Yuri had words on his tongue.

“I…don’t know. With Otabek. I don’t know.” Yuri eventually confessed though Viktor wasn’t the wiser for it.

“You don’t know if you love him? Or he loves you?” Viktor tried to clarify. “Are you saying things like that already?”

“I don’t know anything!” Yuri exclaimed angrily, throwing his hands into the air. “We haven’t…we’ve kissed and some other… Never mind.” He stuttered, the blush rising again. “But I don’t now…there’s something there. But we just…” Yuri waved his arms in a frustrated motion before huffing a loud sigh.

“Just kiss a lot?” Viktor asked curiously.

“Ugh.” Yuri said, clutching at his hair then letting go, making it a birds nest again.

Viktor really struggled to smother his laugh this time, not because it was amusing, but because the bubbling joy he was feeling was so long missing in his life. Yuri was trusting him with something very tense and not comical at all, speaking to him about his confusion like he used to, as they had before when Viktor had indulgently guided and taught him. The only difference was that they were speaking about his love life now.

“So next time, you kiss him and ask him.” Viktor said.

“Yes, because he is so very talkative.” Yuri shot back.

Viktor grinned. “Yuri, he offered to take you in at great risk to his life and his business. For a man like him, it’s not nothing. If you need the words to confirm it, ask him for them. I don’t think he will deny you.”

Yuri huffed once more, and they both had to squint then as the sun crested the hill and shone orange light directly into their eyes.

After giving Yuri some more time, and seeing his words were done, he stood and moved to go back inside.

“Come on, Kitten, we have to clean up our mess.”

Yuri grunted but complied. “I hate cleaning.”

“Yes I’ve heard about the mountain of cigarette butts in Otabek’s ashtray.”

“Who the actual fuck told you that?”

 

-*-

For: DeerGod

 

Yaakov tossed and turned in his make shift bed, though not too much, because his knees were two vicious points of alternating pain. The doctor had told him it would never go away, because there were too many small shards there in the cartilage, and he was hardly a young man.

The pain wasn’t the same in both legs. The knee Katsuki had crushed was sharp, and radiated all the way down his shin. The one Vitya had smacked and then stepped on with his foot, was a much more intricate web of pain, and aches in different ways depending on how Yaakov slept.

His pain made him in the foulest possible mood, after seeing his empire crumble around him.

Georgi was standing across from him, arms crossed and looking severely disgruntled with Yaakov’s state.

“I’m not your slave.” Georgi told him nasally.

Yaakov gritted his teeth as he pushed himself into sitting position. “I found you nearly dead under another man’s heel. Instead of leaving you to that fate, I took you in and made you what you are today. You owe me, little Georgi.”

Georgi was annoyed. He missed his team mate and partner in crime Mila, who had been left behind in Japan, and Russia was no fun anymore. Yaakov’s ranks had depleted, whether by death or by lack of loyalty, and the fact was that news of Yaakov monumental mistake involving Katsuki Yuuri had spread and no-one was afraid of him anymore.

Yaakov had nothing left of him to fear.

But the problem was that Georgi did. Georgi was still more frightening with his clever little handmade torture devices and drop-of-a-hat aggression than most assassins on the streets of Moscow. There was a reason Yaakov had been feared; he’d been a very useful little puppy.

But now, Yaakov kept tugging at the invisible leash between them, urging Georgi to stay with him, telling him that he would rise again but he only get there if Georgi was his aid.

Georgi didn’t like that at all.

He didn’t have the patience to wait, or the temperament to be kept close and Yaakov certainly kept him very close. Too close, like he needed a guard dog.

Georgi was _done_. Just like that, he snapped the invisible thread between them.

“No. Even if I did owe you anything, I honestly don’t care. You mean nothing to me.” He turned away. “Enjoy what remains of your life, old man. Perhaps we will see each other again. Perhaps not. Who cares?”

Georgi ignore Yaakov’s cries as he walked through the drab room and home belonging to what remained of Yaakov’s mistresses.

A mercenary life seemed like a whole new kind of fun.

 

 


	24. Prompts 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 1: Yuuri and Viktor test out the new bathhouse, do some feely introspection.
> 
> Prompt 2: Viktor and Yuuri are on a semi holiday in Toky because Viktor has never been before. Some super feels, sweet fluffy sex.
> 
> Check the Otayuri fic i started if you like:  
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/9776936/chapters/21964655

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so here is the second round of prompts. Apologies for any typos, it's late and my head is full of cotton. 
> 
> .

**For Sheridiotlock** :

**I’m sorry, I know you had a different idea but the characters just do what they damnwell please. I hope you like it anyway.**

 

They lingered.

The best way to assess a new bath house, Viktor had reasoned, was to test is main attraction. In specific, its baths. He had managed to persuade Yuuri to join him in this one before they gifted it to his mother the next day.

It hadn’t been easy to find a new bath-house for her, but she was adamant about moving out of the manor, and in truth Yuuri didn’t want to keep her there, knowing that to her it held far too may unpleasant ghosts. However, he made it clear that she wouldn’t be moving anywhere that he hadn’t sanctioned, that was further that thirty minutes’ drive away and needed too much upkeep. This limited their options.

But a contact at the agency had informed Yuuri that there was a bath house available for sale, although it was old and had been on the market for some time. However, ITS large draw when it had been operating had been its baths, which were fed directly from hot springs underneath the ground on which it was built. It was also ringed with cheery blossom trees, which hung over the three outdoor baths and coated the ground with pink softness in summer months.

Yuuri had frowned at the cheery blossom trees, saying that they only made the place more of a hassle, but Viktor had persuaded him that it gave Yuuri an excuse to hire help for his mother. ‘Help’ in this case meaning a permanently placed bodyguard. And so, he had bought it, had it refurbished, sanded, laminated and repaired until it was a small but very lavish looking bath house. Obviously, he didn’t care of the bathhouse made money, but he didn’t believe in half measures.

Then Viktor had convinced him to sit in the bath as a test run, though Yuuri could see through the thinly veiled excuse to simply enjoy some small privacy. Yuuri had given in, because he sometimes agreed that the small hours weren’t enough.

He felt that more often lately.

Sinking into the waters, he let them steam rise and make his skin clammy, in spite of his vague denials, the steamed was relaxing his muscles and clearing his head in a very welcome way indeed.

He allowed himself to watch Viktor, who was opposite him, arms out of the waters and elbows resting on the edge to hold himself up, eyes closed in decadent pleasure. Yuuri always marvelled at this man, who he had once seen scalp a man slowly, face expressionless, turn into this other man. A man who was flirtatious, clever and a little childlike in his enjoyment of simple things. Like a bath.

 _Why you?_ He thought at the silver haired man.

Yuuri had no delusions; it wasn’t vanity that told Yuuri he could have chosen anyone, if he had been inclined to. Jun-lee notwithstanding, he could have had any amount of whores, male or female. Minako had always made it clear that if he had ever wanted to sample her wares, he had only to indicate it.

Yet, apart from the fact of knowing that he was attracted to men and not women, his actual libido had been a slow burning ember, never truly fanning into life for anyone. Yes, there were a few who had caught his eye, and he could appreciate easily from afar, but he had never wanted more than that. He had a duty, and that had been everything that Yuuri was.

Until Viktor.

Why had _this_ man, of all men, been the one to make Yuuri _want_?

“Russian.” Yuuri spoke aloud. When Viktor cracked open an eye he went on. “Come here.”

Viktor’s head lolled upwards, blue eyes immediately alert and appraising. Yuuri waited, knowing he would be obeyed.  As he had expected, Viktor slowly slid the cold cloth off his head and swam closer to him, with a little hunger in his expression, a little curiosity, and a little laughter.

“You beckoned, your majesty?” Viktor purred when he was close.

Yuuri didn’t reach out, only settled more into his position and tilted his head ever so slightly to one side, fixing Viktor with a heated look. “I’m curious.”

“Hmm. Viktor hummed. “About?”

Yuuri could feel Viktor already sliding his legs over his under the water, aiming to tangle their limbs together. He let it happen.

_Why you?_

“I want to know why.” Yuuri said. Viktor blinked slowly like a cat.

“Why?”

“Why you want me.”

Perhaps if Viktor explained it, he might have some clue as to his own wants.

Viktor tilted back a bit, as if the question had taken him by surprise, and soon his teasing little half grin was back on his mouth. “You want to know why I want you.”

Yuuri didn’t answer an obvious question, so he kept his silence.

Viktor replied thoughtfully. “Because you are beautiful. Because you are powerful and clever and terrifying all at once.”

“That is why anyone would want me.” Yuuri retorted. “I want to know why _you_ want me.”

For Yuuri, it wasn’t a need to hear delightful things said about himself to stroke his ego. He had never enjoyed that, and had stopped Jun-lee from saying those things very early on, as they gave him no pleasure. So Viktor considered again.

“Because you…” Viktor appeared to stumble on words now, mouth open but stalled. “Because…I admire you. You as who you are. And because…you let me be Viktor, and you allow me to see Yuuri.”

“I don’t understand.”

Viktor was still conserving the water between them, his body resting casually against his own. “Because I don’t have to be anything other than who I am with you. Because I…I just do. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted another person as much I want you.”

Viktor voiced was slightly raw with the honesty, and a pale blush dusted his cheeks, making the blue of his eyes more liquid.

Yuuri reach out to tip Viktor’s chin up, so he could see him then. He only saw authenticity, raw and unashamed.

“Why do you want me?” Viktor asked in turn.

Yuuri had been considering the same thing and answered. “Because when I put the collar on you, I don’t feel like I own you. Because you gave me your beautiful hair to show me your devotion, because you take without demanding of me. Because…” the reasons tumbled out of him, suddenly there in his mind and real. “Because I trust you, and I trust no one other than myself.”

 _He_ kissed Viktor this time, aware and happy in the fact that he was the one who initiated the contact. Glad of the fact that even though he might call for Viktor’s obedience, it would be given because it was earned, and not because of some blind mindless devotion.

Yuuri felt something soft touch his face, and then again on his shoulder. He looked to see and saw that a stiff breeze was shaking the tress and tiny pink petals were raining down around them. He caught sight of Viktor who was gazing up at the trees in delight at the sight unseen, small pink fingernails of colour resting in his damp silver hair. And Yuuri felt his chest tighten.

 

He redirected Viktor’s attention, and the blue eyes met his again he let himself smile.

“Did you buy them?”

The glitter in Viktor eyes sparked. “The leather cuffs. I did. And the blind fold. And maybe some other things…”

Yuuri almost laughed. “You’re getting carried away.”

“That’s the point.” Viktor replied, bushing his hands over Yuuri’s thighs again. “You have a lot of stamina, you know. So it keeps things interesting.”

 

-8-

** For: Arah Kingsgarden and Sssuzuki **

**This is for both of you because you requested something similar so I tried to incorporate it all here. I hope it’s what you wanted**.

 

 

_Viktor felt the cold slide of coils over his skin, the thick cord of its body clenching but never tight enough to hurt. It went over his shoulder, behind his back and around his waist, nestling its bucks in the hollow created by his crossed legs._

_The snake, skin like a thousand green and gold links, raised its head up until it was level with Viktor’s eyes. Viktor felt replete, muscles languid and loose as he watched the emerald coloured eyes on him._

_He sighed deeply, breathing out his contentment._

_“Are you free now?” the snake asked._

_Viktor shook his head, smiling. “Because you haven’t bitten me.”_

_“I will never bite you.” The snake replied._

 

Viktor blinked himself awake, the memory of heavy coils on his body still lingering, and the feeling of contentment still deep inside his bones.

And an empty place beside him in the bed.

The night was warm and he didn’t bother pulling clothes on as he slipped from the bed, his feet walking across the plush hotel room towards the open balcony. It had a spectacular overview of Tokyo at night; Viktor had never seen anything like it. The lights blazed with cold blue light, and the streets far below were near solid gold and amber line of car lights. Their hotel was placed in central Tokyo, and so to their right shone the golden Eiffel tower mimicry. It was a different side of japan, it was the electric heartbeat of the country.

Yuuri was standing at the railing, his black satin robe caught by the warm breeze. Viktor came up beside him, thinking that perhaps direct, surprise contact wouldn’t be met well at that moment.

Yuuri wore his glasses and the lights were reflected in their lenses, Viktor saw. But his lovers face was pensive, the hidden lines of tension under skin around his mouth, over his brow. Viktor decided to make himself comfortable and folded his arms against the railing, letting the sounds of midnight Tokyo come to him in wafts.

A crack of a firework went up close by, and he turned his head to watch the red sparks ascend and fade, and then another behind it, this time cleverly designed to become a shape of a heart before fading. Viktor observed it absently until a penny dropped.

“Ha, its valentine’s day isn’t it?” he said, more to himself, than the man standing beside him. But Yuuri’s face turned towards him slightly, startled out of his inner wonderings. “Hmm?”

“Nothing.” Viktor said with a slight shrug. “It must be valentine’s day. It’s February isn’t it?”

“Yes.” Yuuri replied quietly. “Fireworks seem a little…much.”

Viktor chuckled. “Ah, but people do crazy things in the name of love.”

Yuri made a huff sound that may have been a laugh or something more derisive and they lapsed into silence again.

“My mother told me that she did love my father once. At the time, I wasn’t sure why she was telling me such a thing. But looking back on it, perhaps she was just telling herself.” Yuuri spoke eventually, letting his words tumble into the night air. “I doubt my father loved her. In all honesty, something as pretty love is unnecessary in our world.”

Viktor nodded at this, because it was absolutely true.

“My mother came from a family my father wanted to create ties with. It was long before I reached my tenth year that she began to live in the bath house, while my father and I stayed in the manor. Now, she will tell me it’s because she loathed living under the same roof as he did.” Yuuri shrugged. “I don’t think he was kind to her.”

He said all this with a musing, casual tone. He wasn’t living the memory, he was simply giving information.

“Did you miss her living with you?” Viktor asked, curious about what child Yuuri had felt at this development.

Yuuri’s lax brow furrowed slightly. “I cannot answer that question. If you asked me ‘did I wish she had stayed with us?’ then the answer would be ‘yes’. But from the beginning my father made it clear to me and everyone else that I was his heir and I had a duty. Sentiment wasn’t a part of that. So when she left me there with him, I didn’t resent it, or wonder why. It was simply my life’s story.”

Viktor nodded to that too, though he felt a small twinge in his chest. Not for a motherless Yuuri, because in spite of that, he loved her now in his own limited way, protecting her and making the time to eat a meal with her once a week. But he felt it for the children like him, whose lives would never be more than duty, who were determined to be shadows before they even saw the light.

“Yaakov won me in a gamble.” He met Yuuri’s mild astonished look and shrugged. “More or less.”

The light breeze ruffled at victor’s hair and tickled the cooling skin on his ribs, his thighs, and his neck. He slid a hand lightly along the railing then lifted it to Yuuri’s hair, which was growing long and would soon be cut, so he enjoy the feeling of it sliding thick through his fingers. They couldn’t often be this way in the open, without concern over being seen, so Viktor relished it as much as he could, even though his lover gave no indication he enjoyed the touch.

“Are you going to tell me what’s on your mind then, sire?”

Yuuri flashed him a look of annoyance, but it had little bite to it. “Perhaps I came out here to be alone.”

Viktor let his hand drop and turned to leave, without any sour feelings. But he only took one step before he heard Yuuri again.

“But now that I’m not, you could stay.”

Viktor silently reversed back and took his place again.

“We have some sake left…?” he offered eventually, seeing that Yuuri’s face had become tense again, even more so, and he had pushed his glasses up his nose again.

“No.” Yuuri answered. Then without warning, he turned to Viktor, using his hair to pull Viktor’s face flush with his own, placing a claiming kiss over his mouth. Viktor only just caught up with it in his shock, but when Yuuri let him go, he was pleasantly bemused. Then his grin dropped when he saw the conflict in Yuuri’s eyes. In the dark, they were almost black, and would have been angry if they weren’t also…something else.

“Yuuri, what is it?” Viktor asked, concern for his friends anguish seeping through.

“I don’t like it.” Yuuri told him.

Viktor blinked in confusion. “Like what?”

Yuuri sighed and let him go, turning away with sudden movement. “I don’t like the fact that Isami and Goro spoke to you…like they did.”

It took Viktor a moment before realising what his friends vague words meant.

 

It had been a year and some now, that Viktor was Katsuki. After the events with Yaakov, the world had kept turning, but Viktor was no longer a stranger. More than that, he was a colleague, and companion. Yuuko treated him as a good friend, and her triplet daughters had decided he was a rather exotic addition to their family. And there were even some others, who expressed the fact that they were glad he wasn’t dead in the end.

And then Isami, a small, fair 21 year old girl had come to him, asking if he had had the chance to enjoy any of the ramen restaurants Hasetsu had to offer. Her shyness had been sweet and Viktor had very kindly told her that while he would enjoy joining her for ramen anytime, ramen was as far as it would go.

“It really isn’t you, you’re lovely.” He told her, patting her head. “I simply don’t like women that way.”

Her doe eyes had gone wide with surprise and then relief, and she had taken him out for ramen anyway.

But the secret that wasn’t a secret, was out, so to speak.

There were those who sneered at him then, thinly veiled distaste. And then there were those, like Yuuko, who those people on the head and told them to shut up.

And then there were the others, like Goro.

Goro was of an older generation of Katsuki, slightly older than Viktor and usually entrusted to carry out enforcement situations. He enjoyed this sort of work, because it meant he could display his katana sword to full effect. He had something of a reputation with it, but was one of Yuuri’s most trusted subordinates. He and Viktor often sparred together.

The night he propositioned Viktor, Viktor was in the kitchen, making himself a sandwich. Viktor looked up and nodded in greeting.

“Viktor.” Goro said, walking into the wide kitchen, dressed the same way Viktor was, shirtless in sleep pants.

“Goro.” Viktor replied, adding slices of tomato and ham to his already tall sandwich. “Hungry?”

“No.” Goro said, coming to stand a little closer to Viktor and folding his bare arms. “I came looking for you.”

Viktor frowned in alarm, licking sweet chilli sauce off his thumb. “Me? Is something wrong?”

Goro chuckled lowly, keeping Viktor in his line of sight. “No, nothing is wrong.”

“Oh.” Viktor said, turning to face Goro, “Then what? I won’t take a rematch of this afternoon, you know.” Viktor chided.

Goro shifted even closer and Viktor suddenly realised that the space between them was whisper small. “I don’t want a fight. I want something else.”

Viktor was astonished to find himself being unexpectedly kissed.

It wasn’t a bad kiss. Goro had a rough face and warm hands, but Viktor pushed him away firmly before it could become anything else.

“Ha, no.” Viktor said, a little awkwardly. “No thank you.”

Goro leaned away, the thick dark eyebrows creasing together. “Why not? I thought you liked men?”

Viktor took a polite step backward, sliding his plate a lot with him. “I do. But I don’t want to involve myself with anyone at the moment.”

Goro’s lascivious grin was back, and before, _before everything_ , Viktor would have found it very enticing indeed, but as things stood now, he only found the entire situation comical.

“I don’t want to take you out for ramen, Silver.” Goro said, inching closer again. “There are other ways we can fight each other, yes?”

Viktor was about to reply with a much firmer ‘no’ when they heard the metallic flick of a lighter come from behind them. Goro’s head snapped around while Viktor simply tilted his to see, and was gratified to see Yuuri, leaning against the door jamb, lighting a cigar.

Hey all three stood in still silence for a moment before Yuuri took the cigar from his mouth and said;

“I’m hungry.”

Viktor cleared his throat and replied. “Well, I’m making sandwiches.”

Viktor looked pointedly at Goro, whose bravado had wilted upon seeing his employer/crime lord.

 “I …was leaving.”

And he did.

Yuuri and Viktor watched him go, while Viktor snickered a little as his haste. Then he turned back to Yuuri, who was looking beautifully untidy in dress pants and unbuttoned pinstriped shirt.

“What did he want?” Yuuri asked as if he didn’t know.

“I think he wanted some company in his bed.” Viktor replied, turning back to the counter and taking the bread out again. “I said no.”

Yuuri said nothing to that and Viktor didn’t try to fill the quiet.

“I want a normal sandwich. Not one of your Russian abominations.” Yuuri said eventually, throwing the cigar in the sink and pushing himself into a chair behind the island.

 

Viktor recalled that moment, over a month ago, and neither of them had spoken of it. Viktor assumed it was because Yuuri knew he wasn’t interested in anyone else, that for Viktor, Yuuri had his all. Yuuri didn’t need to wonder.

But that didn’t mean he would be immune to things, as it turned out.

Viktor didn’t mind that their affairs was a secret to all but a few. Viktor wore his sexuality proudly, but he would never force someone else to do the same, and in Yuuri’s case, he was even more shackled then Viktor. How would it be received, that the Japanese crime lord had taken a male lover? How would his subordinates perceive it? And his enemies? Rumours were already circling, after Yaakov decided to damage Yuuri in the last ways he could from his crippled seat, but they were only rumours and Yuuri brushed them off like so much dust.

Viktor was content to lie and ignore all other advances for the rest of his life, if it meant he could be with Yuuri, even it was only in the small hours.

In this way, he saw himself paralleled to Pichit, but he tried not to linger on thoughts of the twisted man, who hadn’t even had a eulogy for his death.

It hadn’t occurred to him that seeing Goro trying to flirt with him would annoy Yuuri. Viktor was naturally flirtatious, and often pretended flirtation if only to make people uncomfortable. It was never serious, and never would be. People flirting with him wasn’t unusual, but innocent. Did it bother Yuuri this whole time, or only when he had seen actual evidence of it?

Yuuri was staring out into the night, and Viktor noticed the way his fingers tightened and loosed on the railing, wrestling with his…jealousy? Could Viktor even think that?

Viktor reached to Yuuri, touching his neck, sliding his fingers under the hair that dusted the collar. “Yuuri, it doesn’t matter…it would never happen. I’m yours alone.”

“And I’m yours.” Yuuri stated harshly. Viktor’s hand nearly fell and his breathing stuttered. Never once, had Yuuri ever confessed anything close to…

“I don’t like it. I don’t like that people don’t know that you’re not available for their flirtation and admiration. I don’t like it that people, even my own, don’t understand that you are mine, and that we are… us.”

Viktor was still half dazed by Yuuri previous words. He laughed weakly. “Us.”

Yuuri glanced at him, dark eyes deep and immutable. “Yes.”

“And you are mine?” Viktor said, tasting the words on his tongue, swallowing them down and feeling their warmth spread through his bones.

There was a moment when Yuuri could have denied it, taken it back, let it go, anything but admit to it, and Viktor would have let him. He would have understood. But the expression on his lovers face was one that said that far from ignoring his true feelings, he was taking them into himself, accepting them and making them fact.

“yes.” He answered, like hammering a stake into the ground.

Viktor had heard a fair amount of confessions in his life, but none of them gave as much to him is this one did.

It felt like the most natural next step to take Yuuri’s face and kiss him, luxuriantly, as if he could pass how much the admission had meant to him through the skin of their lips. Pulling Yuri backwards, back to their neglected bed, he said.

“Is this why you left me in the middle of the night to brood at the Tokyo lights? Viktor teased.

“I came because you are a restless sleeper and woke me.” Yuuri replied stoically, as if he wasn’t being led via the rope tie on his robe.

“I was dreaming about a snake. It was a good dream.” Viktor said.

He let Yuuri tumble him backwards onto the bed and bit at his neck, relishing the feeling, stretching like cat underneath him.

“Again?” Yuuri asked, as if he didn’t know. “It’s barely been six hours, Viktor.”

“I like to take advantage of your stamina.” Viktor purred, letting his hands run down from Yuuri’s neck, to chest to the ribcage that held his beating heart. The robe was removed with a slithery sound allowing Viktor to enjoy the view.

“You are beautiful.” Viktor murmured, tracing the line that led from Yuuri’s hip bone to just under his pectoral. He punctuated all his touch with sentiments like these, things he usually said in Russian only, but now he switched between English and Japanese as he spoke.

_“This, here, this is perfect.”_

_“My love, my heart.”_

_“I’ll never have enough of you.”_

_“You are mine.”_

The words were intoxicating. It wasn’t ownership in that sense, but belonging. He belonged to another, to the one who held his heart, and that person, that perfect one belonged to him in turn.

Yuuri said nothing, but let his body melt underneath Viktor’s caressing and clever fingers. Yuuri arched against him, asking with his body what his mouth couldn’t and Viktor gasped against him. Letting his hands curve around and cup Yuuri’s ass he tilted his head upward to see his lover’s eyes.

“Yes?”

“Yes.” Yuuri nodded, eyes half and filled with a lazy sweet, kind of desire that Viktor adored.

He raised two fingers to Yuuri’s already slack lips and almost couldn’t bare it when Yuuri eagerly took them, slathering them with saliva and heat. When Viktor pushed inside, Yuuri tightened but it was accompanied with a small harsh keening that indicated this wasn’t painful, but perfect.

Viktor was already straining, his hips bucking upwards and frustrated, but he forced himself to work Yuuri slowly, scissoring him open and adding a third finger at least before the damp man straddling him got impatient and bit his ear.

Pushing himself into Yuuri had a different quality now, in the light of admissions spoken between them. He was so aware of Yuuri biting into his shoulder, then pulling away to kiss the mark he’d left behind. He had memorised the way that Yuuri clenched around him, with his insides as well as the way his arms curled around his shoulders and neck, pulling the hair from his scalp.

 _I love you_ , said his body as he bent his legs so Yuuri could nestle closer to him.

 _I’ll take care of you_ , said his arms as they hugged his chest so that they slid together in a carnal rhythm.

 _You belong to me_ , said his lips as they tried to kiss but ended up breathing each other’s air as the rhythm increased.

Viktor tasted and scented and let himself be wrapped around.

This was belonging.

This was _belonging_.

He watched Yuuri’s face as his climax dawned, igniting his anguished face and drawing from him a sound that would only ever be understood here, with Viktor’s ears to hear it. He looked away only when the shuddering’s of his own orgasm forced him to clutch Yuuri close, his own voice a hoarse thing, lost between agony and ecstasy.

In the morning, when dawn light broke over them through opened curtains, Viktor stretched, the lay as he was. Yuuri stirred beside him, raising himself onto his elbows, hair dishevelled and squinting at the brightness.

“Why don’t you close the curtains?” he complained.

Viktor smiled at the horizon. “You are lazy. So used to others doing your bidding that you can’t get up and close them yourself.”

At Yuuri’s aggrieved ‘humph’ he rolled over and caught the other man before he could leave.

“I like being lazy too.” Viktor whispered into his lover’s neck, scenting deeply. He still smelled like their love making.

Yuuri let himself rest for a moment against Viktor chest then pulled himself away, and stretched. Viktor took the chance to run a finger down the dip where his spine was.

“Viktor.” Yuuri said as he stood up, naked still.

“Hmm?”

“From now on.” Yuuri paused in the doorway to the en-suite bathroom. ‘When people ask you, you tell them. We are lovers and you are not available.”

Viktor’s stared, jaw slack. Yuuri cocked an eyebrow, patient.

Viktor let himself smile. “If you insist.”

Yuuri carried on into the other room. “I do.”

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, did everyone enjoy that? I did. he he he ...  
> Ok so I wanted to put this fic to rest and let my bois be but...you guys started me on prompts....
> 
> Anyway, I think Victuuri is over for me here, but I was thinking about Otayuri a lot now so...  
> Loves
> 
> My Blog: https://micaelavdb.tumblr.com/

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [I Will Come For You](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14742914) by [JamieS1025](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JamieS1025/pseuds/JamieS1025)




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